


Under our masks

by misto713



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Complete, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Humor, Romance, Skyrim Romance Mod, Socially awkward, no beta we die like men, troll dragonborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misto713/pseuds/misto713
Summary: So maybe theirs was not a love at first sight, though he had been fascinated since the moment they met. Bishop was not a very discriminating guy, as long as the face was pretty. But seriously, asking him to fall in love with an iron mask was a bit too much.
Relationships: Bishop/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Bishop/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

Another slow day in Riverwood. Damn.

Bishop was starting to lose hope of finding someone to help him rescue Karnwyr. He leaned back against the wall near the Inn's doors and considered his options once again. Not that it would help him much.

He couldn't afford to hire a Companion right now so that one was out. There were a couple of people here who might have been able to help him - Faendal for example - if only he hadn't been so damn rude to the elf and his pathetic attempts to woo Camila Valerius the first time they met. And those drunkards by the wall were not even worth considering, he doubted they'd be able to hold a sword in their current state.

That was it. Those were his options. He cursed once again.

Bishop didn't want to try and take on a whole den of bandits on his own, not even with a rescued Karnwyr at his side, but it looked like he won't much of have a choice. Not unless we were willing to abandon Kanwyr, the only being he loved and trusted in this whole cursed world, to die in the Pit. Which he wasn't.

A deep sigh escaped him as he decided to risk it alone after all. All he needed to do now was pack some provisions for the journey and he'd be on his way to Cragslane Cavern.

That was when he heard it.

The now-quite-bark, not-quite-howl of his faithful friend. He turned around, astonished to see Karnwyr making his merry way towards him.

"Karnwyr! You mangy ball of fur, where have you been? I was so worried about you!" Bishop crouched down to let Karnwyr sniff at him and welcomed him back. "And how on Nirn did you get away from the Pit, boy?"

When he lifted his head, he was met with a terrifying sight. A tall figure, dressed head-to-toe in thick, heavy-looking male mage robes and, he was forced to admit, a terrifying metal mask. He stood up to get in front of Karnwyr, in case this person tried anything.

But he did not need to worry. The figure only looked back at Karnwyr and spoke to him in a calm voice, slightly muffled and distorted by the mask, "So you found your person. Karnwyr, was it?" Bishop had the distinct impression that the person smiled under the mask. "Good on you, boy. You are a talented tracker to have found him so quickly."

Bishop had heard about this person before. Who hasn't? But why the legendary Dragonborn would involve himself in a small matter like this, he didn't know. Was he expecting a reward? If so, he'll be disappointed.

"Heh, decided to stop hunting dragons to start rescuing wolves, Dragonborn?" He couldn't help but snark at him. "That's quite a career change. I doubt there's enough money or fame in it for you."

The legendary Dragonborn crossed their hands behind their back. A conciliatory gesture from a mage, as if Bishop was the one threatened. Which he probably was, dammit. "Not quite. The dragons are more or less pacified, so I mostly hunt humans nowadays."

Bishop felt an involuntary shudder run down his spine.

"Bandits, thieves and murderers, mostly. Thalmor, sometimes," the figure continued and Bishop relaxed a fraction, more grateful than ever before that he decided to give up banditry while he still could. "About Karnwyr. I've heard that the pit fights started up again, even though I wiped them out before, so I decided to end them once more." The Dragonborn gestured towards Karnwyr, "Found this little guy trapped in a cage, didn't attack me when I let him out. He even helped me take down the organizers. And, well, once we were done, he looked like he had someplace to be, so I decided to escort him to wherever he was going. After all," this time Bishop could hear the smile in their voice, "Skyrim can be dangerous for a lone wolf. Better to have some company."

Bishop shook his head. "You... decided to follow a wolf, because he looked like had somewhere to be? What are you, bored?"

The Dragonborn cocked his head. "Well, yes."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Hm. Maybe I can do something about it." It was just a vague idea when Bishop spoke, but he was starting to like it the more he thought about it. "I don't have much to pay you with, for helping Karnwyr, but I could keep you company on the road. You may need the help of an experienced tracker on your side. Discover something interesting you'd have missed otherwise. And have some help in a fight, too. After all, Skyrim can be dangerous for a lone wolf," he added with a smirk.

The mask cocked to the side again the same way Karnwyr's did when he was listening closely and Bishop felt that he was really starting to get the hang of interpreting the Dragonborn's emotions.

"...Why not? After all, it's not like I had anything better planned. Your company may yet prove interesting." The muffled voice sounded amused. "Very well, ranger, let's get on the road."

"That's what I like to hear. Riverwood was starting to get boring," Bishop grinned. "Name's Bishop, by the way."

Not two hours later, Bishop was glad to be in such a good physical condition, because otherwise, he'd never be able to keep up with the masked man.

They were on the road to Whiterun, to resupply at the inn before they'd make their way to Windhelm. According to the Dragonborn, he needed to drop off some ingredients at the White Phial that he promised to gather for the owner.

"I've put it off long enough," he said when they briefly paused to skin a deer the Dragonborn dropped with a single spell. "We need to get there before the Jazbay Grapes rot and all my work will be for nothing."

"Is this what you usually do? Play delivery boy for anyone who asks?" Bishop groused.

"Hmm, if the person who requests it is interesting, or the job is, why not? Quintus wants to try and brew some nice booze out of it, despite Jazbay being so bitter. It would be nice to be drunk _and_ strengthen my Magicka at the same time." The Dragonborn washed his hands in the stream and continued with a smirk that Bishop could _feel_ even from behind the mask, "And please, call me a delivery dragon, at least. I'm not a boy, in any way, shape or form."

"Hah! I can see it. You'll call yourself The Dragon Delivery Service and drive the Black-Briars out of business with your Jazbay Wine."

The Dragonborn chuckled and stood up. "Well then, ranger, let's go, or the first ingredients of our famous wine will ferment in my robes."

"' _Our'_ wine? Heh, I like to sound of that. We'll be the legendary heroes of Skyrim for delivering them quality booze at great prices. Bishop and the Dragonborn, here to save Skyrim from the dryness of throat. You have yourself a deal, your lordship. As long as you're the one doing the delivery."

"' _Lordship'_?" The Dragonborn repeated incredulously.

"What? Don't like your new title? Too bad," Bishop shrugged with a provocative smirk. "I heard about all your titles, _Thane of almost every hold and Slayer of Alduin_. Lordship's kinda fitting."

The Dragonborn stared at him for a moment, then his shoulders shook with barely suppressed laughter. After a moment, he composed himself and warned, amused, "I'm going to laugh at you so hard when you figure it out."

Bishop narrowed his eyes. He didn't know what that meant, but he'll get to the bottom of it soon, he was sure.

**Whiterun, Bannered Mare, later that day**

"My name is Neeshka. Do you think I'm pretty?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Bishop saw the Dragonborn shrug and continue inside towards the counter to order some dinner.

"I think you're a pest. We need one room, bartender." No sense wasting coin on two beds. Not like they couldn't share a big room, right? It would be much safer that way, too.

"Sure thing. The room's yours for the day."

"You could share with me instead, I'd keep you warm," the waitress leaned into him, trying to be seductive.

"Go away, flea." He turned to the bartender. "We'll take it. Are there multiple beds?"

"Just the one, sorry. But it's a big one."

Eh, they'll survive. Not like they won't be sleeping next to each other in their bedrolls on the road soon enough. "I'll take it, with a reduced price for the inconvenience. Can the room be well secured?"

"Yes!"

Bishop saw the Dragonborn finish packing the supplies for the road, then stretch uncomfortably and scratch at their robes. That gave him an idea. "Do you have a bath?"

"We sure do. Water's still warm, too, only been used twice."

The flea jumped in, "You don't need _her_ , big man. I can wash your back for you."

That gave him a pause. "What are you talking about, flea?" He shook himself. "Nevermind. I already told you to get lost. Don't make me tell you twice."

The waitress blinked at him. Then looked at the Dragonborn, who shrugged back and seemed to be laughing again. Then looked back at Bishop. "Oh."

He had the distinct impression she was amused as well.

The bartender interjected before things could get too tense, "Ummm... Ok then. Let me show you to the baths."

Bishop shook his weird premonition off and followed the bartender together with the Dragonborn to the baths. "Great. No one's getting in here, not without making a lot of racket and waking everyone up. I'd say it's safe enough. Grab your things and go take your bath. You can go first, I'll wait outside the door."

He heard the Dragonborn start to undress when he noticed the annoying waitress approach the baths. He was really sick and tired of that one. "Get out, flea."

"But you are what I desire in a man. And you aren't even spoken for, so why not try me?"

"Not interested. Now get lost."

That seemed to finally get to her as she lost her temper. "What are you, impotent? You're not interested in me. You don't even notice her. So who catches your fancy? Or is your wolf the only one you want?"

Aaand that was enough for Bishop as well. "You come into this room again, I will slit your throat!"

"Fine! I'll just go then! I don't know how she can stand you!" The waitress turned and left in a huff.

Bishop breathed a sigh of relief but felt there was some point he was seriously missing here. He backed a bit into the bathing chamber and called out to the Dragonborn, "Hey, lordship, do _you_ know what she was talking about?"

He heard some muffled snickers behind him, then the Dragonborn spoke and turned his world-view upside down, "Probably the fact that I'm a woman?"

"What?!" Bishop turned his head so fast he got whiplash. The Dragonborn was still dressed but the robes hung even more loosely around his... her? frame than before, if that was possible. "No way!"

The Dragonborn snickered again. Then opened the front of their robe to reveal-

"Gods, woman! You'd rather show your _tits_ than your _face_ to convince me?! What the hell!"

The Dragonborn was openly laughing at him now. Bishop watched, bug-eyed, as it made the rather nice pair of breasts jiggle in their cloth wrap underwear. "I guess you have to change your nickname for me. And you should probably ask the bartender for another room, ranger!"

Bishop couldn't help it. He felt himself turn red from embarrassment. Both from his mistake, and the half-undressed legendary _woman_ in front of him. How could he have missed this? Why did no one ever mention that the 'Savior of the world' was a goddamn wench? So many stories, so many tales of victories and accomplishments, yet no one bothered to mention it?

He turned around to go back to his position at the door. Looked like he had even more of a reason to protect... _her_. Damn.

"Oh, and ranger?" Came the no longer muffled and definitely female voice behind him, "Name's Hildur, by the way."


	2. Chapter 2

Bishop honestly didn't know what to think, as he watched the legendary Dragonborn somehow _eat through the creepy mask!_

"..."

"Problem, ranger?" the mask didn't change, he knew that, but he could have sworn that it smirked at him.

"Just... _how?!_ " he gestured at her face.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know how exactly it works either," she responded and somehow took another bite of her baked potatoes without removing the mask. Or even moving it at all. "But that was the main purpose of the mask, so I guess the dragon priest must have figured out some way."

Bishop scoffed. "What purpose does _eating through a mask_ serve?" Alright, he could guess at a couple of reasons - to creep people out on purpose, to make sure no one ever saw their faces and still not be inconvenienced by such a mundane thing as eating,...

"This is the mask of Hevnoorak, which grants full immunity to poison and disease. It would be kind of silly to be completely protected from poison, only to take it off and die of a poisoned dinner. Hevnoorak might have been a monster, but he wasn't stupid."

Ok, he couldn't guess the reason. One of his eyebrows lifted. "Immunity to poison _and_ disease? Damn, that's handy! I wouldn't say no to a mask like that."

"Yeah, well, this one's mine. I looted it off Hevnoorak's corpse myself, fair and square, so you'll have to find your own." She chuckled, "But if I ever find a spare one, I'll send it your way."

"Heh, at least I'm starting to understand why you wear it. If there ever was a reason to hide _this_ face," he gestured at himself, "poison and disease immunity might just be it."

"Oh, no, don't hide your pretty face, how shall the female population survive that tragedy?" she dead-panned and stuffed a piece of grilled leek in the mask.

He grinned at her, "Grouse all you want, Ladyship. I know you find me attractive."

Her hand paused, holding a pit of potato. "I think I liked you better when you called me 'Lordship'."

Bishop leaned closer to her with a small leer, "Oh, Ladyship. You just don't want to admit to wanting a piece of this."

Her snort was clearly heard through the mask. "The only 'piece' I want is my dinner," she waved the bit of potato around.

But he wouldn't be fooled. Not again, not anymore. He might not have the advantage of getting clues from her expressions, but her body spoke for her. The way her shoulders tensed, the jerky movements of her arms, her fidgeting... "Oh, but you _do_ want me, Ladyship. You want me to notice you and look at you. You want this wild wolf to see you as you are. To enjoy my raw animal magnetism-" he couldn't finish his sentence before cracking up.

The Dragonborn, Hildur, huffed and finished the potato on her fork. "Oh, great, I'm travelling with a jester. This should be _fun,_ " she groused at him but he could tell she was not annoyed. In fact, he thought she seemed _disappointed_?

His eyes narrowed and he breathed in deep to calm down.

Could he have accidentally guessed right? Did she actually want him to look at her and see a woman? He thought the mighty demi-god Dragonborn would want people to bow down before her. Grovel at her feet. Not want men to _seduce_ her. He wanted to poke some fun at her, to get a rise out of her and knock her down a bit, but he never meant to... _hurt_ her.

The hints were there all along. He really should have seen them earlier, Bishop chastised himself. The way people reacted to her - reverence, respect, even a hint of fear, but never any desire or true joy at seeing a friend. How she was more amused than surprised when he assumed her gender wrong. How she barely reacted the first time he called her a boy. How she followed a single wolf half-way across Skyrim because she was bored and there was no _person_ around to pique her interest - because she piqued no one's interest either.

It all lay before him and for an instant, he understood what her life must be like - a legendary hero of immense power and renown, yet all alone with no suitors, since no one would even _dare to think_ of her that way for fear of being torn apart by her Shouts.

There was no one to treat her like a wench.

Well. No one ever called Bishop careful. He was willing to give it a go. Give _her_ a go, if she wanted him.

Seducing a creepy iron mask might be a bit of a problem even for him, though. Hmm, he might have to do something about it, even though he had to admit at least to himself that he enjoyed the mystery.

"What's with the mask anyway, Ladyship? I mean, you are among friends here, you could take it off. I doubt old Hulda wants to do you in, right in the middle of her inn." He added with a slightly mean smirk, "You're not _ugly_ under there, are you?"

"...Well, now I definitely won't take it off."

"Why not?"

"Because you're being _rude_! Not to mention, it is cruel to mock someone's features, especially if you never even saw them yourself. And even if I was ugly as sin, it would still be none of your concern."

"Come on, Ladyship, no need to be ashamed of your ugly face. What is the problem? You an Orc?" he asked with a provocative grin, knowing fully well Hildur was a Nordic name.

She spluttered, clearly offended, but then noticed his smirk and understood he did it on purpose. "You're impossible!" she shook her head, but he could hear the slight amusement in her voice. "But now you've made a strategic mistake, ranger. You see," she leaned in closer to him, and the power in her aura was so strong he almost leaned back from it. "You challenged a dragon!"

"Hmm, I love a good challenge," he countered, trying and mostly succeeding to not feel apprehensive. "Let's make it a game, then."

The mask turned sideways, the Dragonborn clearly interested, "What sort of game?"

He leaned in even closer to her so that they were almost touching, even with the small table between them, "I get your mask off, I get a kiss."

She threw her head back and barked out a laugh, "Ha! What if I'm 'ugly' under it? Won't it offend your delicate ranger sensibilities?"

He guessed he deserved that one. "With a woman as fascinating as you, it wouldn't matter to me," he answered, more or less honestly.

Hildur fidgeted again, then leaned back. "Flattery will get you nowhere." She picked up her mead and took a sip.

"I beg to differ, Ladyship. I didn't even turn it on you yet and I already saw your tits."

She choked on her mead and Bishop was interested to see that the front of her robes formed a wet spot. _How on Nirn did that mask even work?!_

With growing amusement, Bishop watched as she stuck a hand under the leather cowl attached to the mask, trying to lift it to clean herself up. And then she paused, clearly dismayed when she realized that doing so would make her lose the bet she only just entered in.

"Please, do continue, Ladyship," he waved at her magnanimously.

"You wish!" She snarked back, making his grin grow even wider. He still couldn't see her face, but he'd bet his trousers she was blushing in there. He was starting to really like their game.

This was going to be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Travelling with the Dragonborn was an experience and a half, Bishop soon discovered.

'I don't remember Skyrim being this exciting,' he thought to himself as he fended off another beast. A sabre cat, this time. His companion attracted trouble like flies, as soon as they stepped foot out of the relative safety of Whiterun's walls. But at least she was also capable enough to deal with the problems, he quietly admitted to himself.

Bishop barely managed to ready his bow before most of the beasts were felled by a quick strike of fire or lightning. The Dragonborn hardly needed his help in a fight. 'Good,' he thought with a small smirk. 'That only means she's keeping me around for the _company_.' With each small skirmish passed, with each potential blow his legendary companion deflected before it could even come close to cause him harm, he saw his chances with her rise.

They approached Valtheim Towers, a notorious bandit hideout.

"Oh, not this again," she sighed next to him and readied herself for a fight.

"Yeah, it's usually full of bandits, Ladyship. We should be careful. We don't know how large that group is."

"No, _they_ should be careful," she countered, annoyed. "I already wiped out six bandit groups that thought setting up here was a good idea. You'd think after that, they'd pass the word around not to settle along my favourite route." As she casually chatted with him, Bishop saw her conjure a bow, shoot the wooden platform at the top of the first tower, then immediately send an arrow that pierced the eye of the bandit archer that stood up to check it, and another one that hit the female warrior at the gate right in the neck. "Or at least that Balgruuf or the Imperials would set up some garrison in here since they consider it such an important route."

Bishop was honestly impressed. And maybe a little scared. At times like this, he was honestly glad he was no longer a bandit.

The Dragonborn sprinted to the first tower, then ran up the stairs and Bishop grew more and more amused, as she seamlessly continued her annoyed rant as if she wasn't in the middle of combat. "But nooo, obviously that would be too much trouble. Too big an expense!" Another bandit down, and now the rest of them realized something was going on and started running towards them from the second tower. "Much easier just to let the Dragonborn handle it. Just throw some gold at her once she's done! **YOL - TOOR - SHUUL**!"

Bishop started and stared, as the bandits didn't even have time to scream before they burned to ash in dragon fire.

"If only the rewards matched the bother. But, I'm sorry, a hundred gold isn't going to entice me to turn around and postpone my trip to Windhelm. I guess I'll have to ask for the reward later. If I remember it, that is."

By that time, the brazen woman had finished off the bandit chief and sent one last arrow to fell the archer at his position past the bridge.

And then there was silence. The battle was done and Bishop didn't even shoot the one arrow he nocked in his bow for fear of hitting the woman in front of him.

He relaxed his posture and went through the pockets of the closest bandit laying dead on the connecting bridge. "Are you that rich, that you'd turn your nose up at a good hundred Septims like a damned noble?" he scoffed at her mockingly and pocketed the bandit's coinpurse.

"...Yes, actually. I have more gold than I know what to do with and nothing to spend it on. Also, I _am_ a damned noble, I'll have you know," she added with a shrug.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about all your titles for a moment. Thank you so much for reminding me."

"Is it going to be a problem?" He could almost hear the raised eyebrow.

Bishop thought for a second, then shook his head. "Not really. All the more for me," he gave her a lascivious smirk as he tossed and caught yet another coin-purse. "Honestly, you don't act like a noble. Most of the time. Just don't ever think of commanding me like one - I'm not here to lick your boots."

She snorted, "Noted, princess. I shall take great care not to insult your delicate sensibilities."

" _Princess?!_ I hardly doubt I'm- _Argh_!"

An arrow pierced his shoulder. Bishop grimaced at the injury and tried to locate where it came from.

"There! At the top of the tower!" he shouted to his companion.

The Dragonborn turned, noticed the last bandit aiming his bow at them and threw a ball of lightning that hit the bandit square in the chest. His scream was brief, interrupted by his sudden death as his body turned to ash, and then there was silence. Then she turned back to him.

"I'm- I'm sorry," she almost babbled as she kneeled next to him and stretched her hand towards the arrow in his shoulder. "I- I usually pay more attention, but I let myself be distracted. I apologise for-"

"Dammit, woman, less apologising, more helping me get it out!" he growled.

"Yes, of course," she muttered, grabbed the arrow and Shouted, " **FEIM**!"

Bishop stared incredulously as she turned into a ghost, still holding the arrow, which miraculously turned ghostly as well, then painlessly and effortlessly pulled it out of him as if it wasn't even _there_. "How in Oblivion-"

She shook her head a bit, "I do have some tricks up my sleeve."

Her body turned solid again, and she immediately started casting a healing spell on him. Bishop felt its warmth spread through his limbs and watched as the wound slowly stitched itself close.

"There. That should do it." She withdrew her hand and stood up, a little awkwardly.

"Thanks, your Ladyship. That was a useful trick with that disappearing act."

"You're welcome."

Bishop heard her swallow and narrowed his eyes when he noticed how her head was turned away from him as if she couldn't look him in the eyes. He had to think, fast. Wouldn't do to have her send him away after the first skirmish, just because they both decided to chat instead of checking if the place was truly cleared out.

He pulled himself to his feet as fast as he dared, refusing to show how woozy he felt - the wound might be gone now, but rest was still recommended after any healing.

"I wonder where the bandits keep their food in here," he added conversationally as if nothing happened.

"Second tower basement," she added without skipping a beat. "Found the hidden trapdoor on my third or fourth run-through. Do you want something to eat?"

Bishop stared at her for a moment, then started laughing. He couldn't help himself. "You, my Ladyship, are absolutely ridiculous! I adore you. Only you would be able to tell me where the bandits stash their loot before we even went to check," he shook his head ruefully, still chuckling a bit.

He watched, more than a little amused, how she all but fidgeted at his proclamation. Might have been a bit early to start with the 'declarations of love', but eh, Bishop has never been one for the slow and cautious approach when the fast one worked as well. Not like it hurt his long-term plans...

"Well, no time to waste! Please, do give me the Grand Tour of this place, _Madame,_ " he deliberately lowered his voice at the last word and placed his hand at her lower back to ostensibly lead her to the second tower. he felt the way she tensed, but she did not fight him.

They ate well that night. The fare might have been even better than what the Bannered Mare had to offer, even though they cooked their dinner over a campfire. Bishop even found some relatively fresh Sweet Rolls and Honey Nut Treats.

The sun's last rays were gently warming their backs as they sat at the edge of the connecting bridge, their legs hanging off, and slowly drunk some rather nice mead. Bishop knew that a relatively clean and warm bed waited for them in the second tower, though he planned to spend half the night standing guard on the upper ledge with his bow in hand, just in case. Karnwyr might as well take the second 'shift', as always.

He could get used to this. Good food, a warm bed, a talented mage to back him up... Even the company was pleasant. They've been chatting for some time, then their conversation slowly shifted into a peaceful sort of silence. Bishop was used to quiet companionship with Karnwyr, but this might be the first time he experienced something like that with another human being, even though he knew the Dragonborn only for two days.

He really could get used to this.

The Dragonborn sighed with contentment. "This is nice. I haven't had a good night of drinking since that damned contest with Sanguine."

He spluttered and coughed up some of his mead. "Your _what_?!"

The woman chuckled and slapped his back a couple of times. "It's a long story. Hmm. Or maybe not. Do you want to hear it?"

"I sure do!"

"Well, it started when a mysterious Breton by the name of Sam Guevene challenged me to a contest to win a staff..."

Bishop listened incredulously as the legend next to him encountered one of the most hilarious anecdotes he'd ever heard. He shook his head. He might not be a religious person, but seriously. Daedra? That's just asking for trouble.

"...but when the portal opened right at the top of the last slain necromancer, I realized that something was indeed very wrong. And once I knew that, it wasn't really hard to guess who or what I got involved in."

"So what did you do? Go and meet the Daedric Prince himself? I hope you got the staff in the end, at least." Waste not, want not, right? Aaand since she was already involved...

"I turned around and left that place at once."

"...What?" That was not the ending he expected. " _Why_?"

"Stepping through of my own volition or accepting any 'gifts' would mean that my soul would belong to the Daedra forever. And, sorry, but that's just not my preferred afterlife."

Bishop shook his head, incredulous. "You know, I'd never been one to suggest a deal with the Daedra, but since you already went through so much trouble to get the staff... why not? Also, drinking forever? That doesn't sound so bad."

She shrugged. "Perhaps not. But then, Sovngarde has plenty of drinking too, and the company is nicer. Also, that place is just so pretty."

He turned even more towards her. "So it's true, then? You really went into Sovngarde to kill Alduin?"

"Really really," she swung her legs on the ledge mischievously.

"Ok, I'll bite. What was it like?" Not even his pride would keep him from asking. He might not be religious, but if Sovengarde was real, then... he didn't know what to think. If he was even meant to think anything about it since as a former bandit, he didn't believe he'd ever get to see it. And yet... Maybe it was the mead talking but on this night, with this woman for company, he felt closer to it, _worthier_ of it than ever before. And now to hear that it was _real_...

"Well, you pretty much heard the whole of it already. Feasting, drinking, fellowship and fighting. Songs of the old heroes echoing in every corner, friendly brawls and tests of mettle... but despite all the action, there was... peace." She took another sip of her mead and stared at the river flowing down below. "Even with the threat of Alduin, Shor's Hall was calm and serene. Once Alduin's mist was gone, the fields outside were breathtaking. One could spend forever there. But you know what was the best part? The one that attracts me more?"

"What?" he asked quietly, trying not to disturb the mood.

"The company. It sounds weird, but I felt like I met more friends there than in any of the cities of Skyrim." She raised her drink in memory. "Jurgen Windcaller whose teachings I respect, Ysgramor, Olaf One-Eye and Svaknir - old rivals reunited and reconciled, the three ancient Tongues who helped me defeat Alduin, fair Iorel who was once a Draugr and before that a Queen, and all the warriors, mages and archmages who welcomed me as one of their own even if I wasn't dead yet."

"It felt like coming home." She sighed. It was not a happy sound. "But Sovngarde is not for the living. As soon as Alduin was dead, Tsun sent me back to Nirn."

There was a moment of silence. Bishop was almost hesitant to break it. It sounded... it sounded like she didn't want to live anymore. He felt a sudden stab of pain in his heart. Their... companionship might be only two days old, but he felt he would... miss her.

"You could still have your drinking and brawls here on Nirn, Ladyship," he bumped his shoulder against hers in an attempt to cheer her up. "You ever need a sparring partner, it would be my pleasure to mop the floor with you," he stated arrogantly.

"You wish!" she scoffed, but he could tell her mood lifted a bit. "You and what army, ranger? I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back, even if you had Karnwyr for help."

"Oooh, you're on! Don't challenge the mighty duo! I could win by myself, but with the great wolf at my side? We're unbeatable!"

"The mighty wolf would lick your wounds in consolation after I had you kiss the floor!" Despite their boasting, neither rose, preferring to drink their mead and trying to outdo each other. He could hear the grin in her voice now. He decided to up the stakes, but in a different direction.

"Mmhmm, kissing. You know, there are other places I could kiss. Places you'd enjoy a lot more, Ladyship."

She was openly laughing at him now. Good. Just as he intended. "You're incorrigible!"

He leaned in to drawl seductively whisper to the place where he thought her ear would be under the leather cowl of her mask. "And you're a horrible tease, wench. All that 'Nordic flirting' about brawls but here you want to leave poor little me high and dry?"

To his surprise, she leaned even closer to him, briefly laying her head on his shoulders. He breathed in her scent and let himself enjoy the moment.

"Tease, hm? Then what will you say when I do _this_?"

She rose to her feet, swaying lightly and he realized with a start that she was already more or less drunk. A couple of strong tugs loosened her robes and he watched, incredulous, as they fell to the ground, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

' _Oh, Gods_ ,' he thought. ' _Who even cares for the face in a woman with legs like that_.' Every inch of her was gorgeous. A firm, toned body, curves in all the right places. Even the scars were beautiful - they added a delicious dash of danger and served as a stark reminder of her power.

Her semi-nakedness was a startling, but not unpleasant development. He started to wonder. Would he let her have her wicked way with him? Or would he play the gentleman and let her sleep it off in the bandit chief's bed? And then tease her about it endlessly tomorrow as soon as she was sober. Decisions, decisions...

"Mmmm, temptress," he purred. "Does this mean I win the kiss?"

"Ah-ah-ah, stranger-ranger!" she wagged her finger at him, playfully scolding. "You get a kiss if I reveal my face. We never bet about revealing the rest!"

And with that, she giggled like a little girl and _dived off the bridge_.

"Dammit!" Bishop jumped to his feet in shock.

Before he could decide whether to jump in after her or run into the tower to get a couple of healing potions for her, he heard her splashing in the river down below.

"Come on, ranger! The water's great!" she splashed around, happy as a clam, uncaring that she almost gave him a heart attack.

"I'm going to strangle you for scaring me like this, Ladyship!" he shouted down at her. "No one sane would jump from this height!"

"Chickeeeen!" he heard her yell back at him.

' _Oh, that's_ _ **it**_!' he thought. Then he undressed, aimed for the deepest part of the waters deep, deep down below, sent a quick prayer in mourning for his dying sanity and dived right in after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Valtheim Towers. I always jump off the bridge :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: For melody, imagine the chorus from 'The internet is for pom' ( watch?v=6kXA7-XoQTA). The Dragonborn might just be re-discovering her innate trollish tendencies...

" _~The trees are covered with hair,_

_the bear, he don't seem to care!_

_Do you think that he'll fight fair?_

_Bear, bear, bear_!"

"Would you stop singing?!"

"No!" The Dragonborn laughed and slashed at the bear with her conjured blade. "It's tradition!"

Bishop stepped further to the side and loosed another arrow. He was pleased to note it hit the bear right in the neck while avoiding both Karnwyr and the infuriating woman he travelled with.

" _Please_ try not to attract any more of them, will you?" He mocked as he scanned their surroundings for any further threats.

"Oooh, but I don't need to worry, do I?" She asked mock innocently as she expertly drew a knife and started cutting the bear's claws. "After all, I have my gallant hero to save me from mortal danger, such as bears, bandits, or getting a little bit cold at night..."

Bishop palmed his face and groaned. "Seriously, Ladyship, I don't know what got into me yesterday. It was nothing more than a brief spark of insanity. _Not_ to be repeated, I assure you."

She was referring to yesterday and the damned bath they took, half-drunk, in the river under Valtheim Towers. As soon as they were done, Bishop bravely led the almost naked heroine up to the bridge where they left their armour and robes. But for some mysterious reason, his drunken self decided to dress his companion in his own armour. While her robes lay pretty much next to them. Purely to warm her up, of course. In no way did he try to get her to wear his stuff so she'd smell like him, definitely not. He might have been spending way too much time with only Karnwyr for company, now that he thought about it.

He had buckled the armour almost completely before she realized what he'd been doing. But instead of dropping it back down, she had laughed and run away with it to the second tower, where she threw herself onto the bed in it. And he had followed her like a fool, both falling into the same bed. Where they had promptly fallen asleep, half-naked with her still in his armour stretching almost obscenely over her chest.

It had been an awkward morning, once they woke up, that was for sure.

But it seemed that the time for embarrassment was over, now that the wench decided to tease him for his drunken blunder instead.

"Aww, but here I was looking so much to changing my robes for your very dashing armour. Don't you think I looked good in it, Bishop?"

He coughed and felt his face flame up. But he wouldn't let himself be outdone by a wench. Oh no. Better to go for the offensive. "I bet you'd look good in anything, Ladyship. But you'd look your best naked, spread on the furs of my bed," he leered.

She spluttered, he was gratified to notice.

"But I do wonder if I'll ever see you in, you know, traditional clothes."

"What do you mean?" She asked mischievously.

"You know, a dress, for instance. Or at least _female_ robes." He shrugged. "I admit, I'm curious. Why do you even wear male robes?"

She stood up, packing the bear claws in her apothecary satchel. "Practicality, mostly. When I received them, I already got used to wearing Hevnoraak's mask and didn't want to give it up. The robes didn't allow any head-coverings other than the original hood they came with." She started walking in the direction of Windhelm and Bishop followed. "So I modified the robes, removed the hood without damaging the enchantment. But that is as far as the magic could be pushed. If I did any further modifications, like, changing the fit to suit a female body, the enchantment would fall apart, and I'd be left with an armful of pretty clothes. Which would defeat the original purpose of the modification I spent so much time and effort on. And I really, _really_ like the enchantment, which I, unfortunately, can't seem to reproduce."

Bishop just shook his head, amused. "Good to know you didn't always dress like a man, Princess. You only dress like it to confuse a poor, unsuspecting ranger..." he gave her a raised eyebrow.

He could practically _feel_ her eye-roll.

"But I do wonder. What did you wear before you received your robes?"

"Dragonscale armour, my poor confused ranger, I wore Dragonscale armour," she said with laughter in her voice. "Enormous dragon scales and teeth in an iron setting, as heavy as steel but still fashioned to be worn as light armour, arranged to be the most terrifying thing you've ever seen."

He stopped in the middle of the road to stare at her incredulously.

"So, you really didn't miss much, if it's any comfort," she continued teasingly, "In fact, I do believe I still have the set... somewhere. You know, if you wanted to borrow it? It might fit your trim, girly figure."

"Oh, I'll give you a 'girly' figure, wench," he growled, then continued with a smirk. "I know you took a very good look at my 'figure' yesterday. Couldn't get enough as you splashed and swam next to me."

Bishop stalked close to her until he was almost touching the iron mask with his own face. This close, he could see a pair of beautiful pale-blue eyes through the slits. "And then you woke up in my arms. Don't tell me you didn't take a close look."

Her eyes widened, then went half-lidded before she abruptly turned away and cleared her throat. "You wish," she muttered.

Bishop counted it as a point in his favour.

He smirked, hooked his thumbs in one of the belts of his armour and continued walking down the road to Windhelm, whistling the Dragonborn's bear fighting theme.

* * *

"...And you brought so much! Thank you for this, Dragonborn, truly," Quintus gushed over the Jazbay grapes Hildur placed at the table. "I've not seen a batch this large in months! This must have taken great effort, not to mention coin, to collect."

The Dragonborn fidgeted a bit but didn't say a word. Bishop smirked with his arms crossed, for he knew that fully half of the Jazbay grapes were collected along the road. Today. After all, he watched and even helped her collect them.

The old ones she had collected had indeed 'fermented' in her robes, as she'd been afraid. Despite that, the owner of the White Phial still considered them valuable as ingredients fo their experimental wine and took both them and the fresher ones that were gathered just this morning.

"So, when do you expect to have the first batch ready, Quintus?" she asked politely.

"Ah. Yes, of course. The wine should be ready in, hmmm, about a week's time, I think."

"That soon? I thought wine took longer to make."

Quintus smiled at her, "True, but please remember that I am a talented alchemist. A week will do."

"If you're sure," she shrugged her shoulders. "What will be the next step, then?"

"Delivering it to the most influential people and wine connoisseurs, of course!" The imperial man exclaimed, excited. "Just think! If we manage to get several Jarls to drink and enjoy it, we might even become more popular than the famous Spiced Wine of Solitude."

"Hmm," Dragonborn hummed and Bishop could tell she frowned under the mask. "Do you think we could instead involve Evette in this? She is an experienced winemaker and seller. If we involved her, she could... I don't know, offer the Jazbay Wine alongside her spiced wine in Solitude?"

Quintus didn't seem convinced but shrugged his shoulders, "If you think that's wise."

"I do," she asserted more strongly. "I can get the Jarls to try the wine, I can reach an agreement with the trading caravans and travelling merchants to sell it for us, and if it truly does fortify and regenerate Magicka, I can make a deal for a steady supply with the Mage's College in Winterhold. Having Evette sell it would only strengthen our network."

"It is settled, then," Quintus nodded agreeably. "Give me a week or so, and the first batch shall be ready for tasting."

As soon as they stepped outside the doors, Bishop couldn't stop himself and asked, "So. What's the deal with my brave enterprising dragoness? Getting cold feet before you even started the business?"

"No, no, of course not!" She denied immediately. "It's just... I like Evette and her Spiced Wine. I know she has some trouble with sales in the lean months but she still tries very hard. And... well, consider me stupid, but until now, the wine was, I don't know, and interesting experiment. An amusing thought exercise." Her head fell lower. "I never considered the fact that it could threaten someone's livelihood."

"You seem very confident in your chances there, Ladyship. What if it all flops? You don't even have the Wine yet."

"It's going to work, trust me. Quintus is too good an alchemist with a great passion for wine, and I'm too damn popular with the Jarls and the mages for it to fail. If I truly spread the word myself, as I promised Quintus, it will soon become very popular. But that also means that smaller businesses like Evette's... will have problems."

Bishop shook his head fondly. "You're too damn soft-hearted, Ladyship. If you are better, stronger than others, I say go for it. Become the best, and screw what others think. If you consider everyone's _feelings_ on the matter, you'll never get anywhere."

But despite his words, he couldn't help but be charmed and warm up to her even more. Soft-hearted she might be, but in a person with her power and influence, he admitted that a soft heart might not be such a bad thing.

"Anyway, we still have a week before it's ready. What are we doing now, Ladyship? Going to rest somewhere warmer, preferably." The late afternoon was already cold enough, he would prefer to spend the night somewhere where his bloody testicles wouldn't freeze off, thank you very much.

"Yeah, sure. Let's go to Candleheart Hall." They slowly made their way through the streets. "It's a shame that the Cornerclub doesn't offer any beds. I'd much rather spend the night there than with Ulfric's fanboys drunkenly leering at me. But hey, at least I can beat up Rolff again, so that's a bonus. The prick doesn't know when to quit."

Bishop just snorted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Consistent chapter length? What is consistent chapter length?
> 
> Also, I apologize to any Alec fans out there. As you can see… I’m not much of a fan.
> 
> The “Hist-song" is the… hmm, claim? motto? from the band Heilung. The actual performance I imagine sounds something like the Tribal drums: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZdtsN-cJ4g

" _~Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes_!"

Bishop rolled his eyes and concentrated even harder on his mead. His Ladyship _so_ did not need the ego boost.

"Oh, dammit, I hate that song," the woman in question muttered and set down her own drink.

Or maybe she did?

"What, you don’t like to listen to people singing about your famous comings and goings?" He smirked and leaned back. "I thought you’d love to hear people celebrating your arrival, my oh so noble Ladyship."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right. Except this Dragonborn is _not_ , in fact, coming, and hasn’t in a while." Bishop accidentally inhaled a bit of his mead. Dammit, he needed to remember not to drink while they discussed things. Lately, more of his drink ended up on his table or armour than in his mouth. It was a bloody disgrace.

She blithely continued, "Besides. Every time some damned bard sings it, I get attacked by some random asshole or outright Thalmor Death-Squad as soon as I step outside the city gates."

He leered at her. "I could help you with that."

"You’re offering to face the Thalmor for me, my noble ranger? Perhaps I underestimated your commitment to me..." she trailed off teasingly, but her tone revealed she knew perfectly well what he meant.

"I meant with the first part, but hey, if it helps me achieve it, I will gladly face the second one for you."

She cleared her throat. Bishop would bet his last pair of trousers that she was blushing under that damned iron mask.

She swiftly changed the topic back to its original track. "It’s like the bards are announcing my exact location. Seriously. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. I better go stop that bard before he really gets into it, and we’ll have to run to the Sea of Ghosts to get rid of the damned elves or assassins."

Bishop opened his mouth to continue flirting and suggest that he’d gladly run away with her, but she hurried away before he could. He shrugged his shoulders. There will always be time for flirting later. Not like she was about to leave him or be stolen by someone else, right?

"Hello, sir, can you please-"

"Forgive me, my lady, have I the honour to speak with the Dragonborn?" 

His Ladyship paused for a moment, probably not happy at being both recognized and interrupted. Then she sighed, "Well, yes, but-"

"By the Divines! It is delightful to be standing in your presence," the bard interrupted her _again_. And then he did something even worse. He _announced_ her. "Today, we witness a living legend among us, none other than the Dragonborn herself!"

Bishop heard her dismayed groan all the way from where he stood near the stairs.

The bard opened his mouth again, but this time, she was ready. "This living legend would like to keep her arrival _private_ , so _if you don’t mind_?"

The ranger had never heard such sheer _threat_ infused into a ’polite’ request. Honestly, he was impressed.

The man in the ridiculous outfit seemed briefly startled, but then gave her what was probably meant as a consoling smile. In Bishop’s opinion, it turned out condescending instead. "Certainly, certainly. If I could just have one moment of your fine company, my lady." 

And then he continued as if she didn’t look one step away from chopping his head off. But then, Bishop imagined it must be hard for _some_ _people_ to interpret her moods through the mask. They did not have his finely honed instincts. In his world, to interpret a predator or any large animal wrong meant to risk death. _He_ could see the tension in her shoulders, the stiff way she held herself and knew she would very much like to conjure a blade and ’get to work’. But this fop? Nah. He was as blind to her mood as a five-year-old mole-rat.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alec."

"Charmed, I’m sure." The sarcasm was so thick in the air that even some of the bystanders felt it and started stepping from foot to foot. But the bard continued on as if he didn’t hear it. "I have spent so much of my time studying your adventures. From the terrors at Helgen to your endless eradication of the Dragon menace."

Her posture changed. Her shoulders hunched and she turned her face slightly away from the bard as if she was in pain. ’ _Good job, idiot. Reminding her of probably the worst and scariest moments of her life,_ ’ Bishop thought to himself.

"You are our hero. Your strength and humility brings hope to every-"

" _Please_! That’s quite enough."

There was surprising laughter coming from the side of the room. "You do realize you just proved his point about humility, right, child?"

"Dravynea! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. What are you doing in Windhelm?"

The Dunmeri woman smiled from under her hood and lifted her drink in greeting. "Just enjoying my night off in the ’big city’, my friend. I’ve heard about this bard and wanted to see him for myself. There’s supposed to be some sort of performance-"

"Exactly!" The bard jumped in, obviously no longer content with being ignored by his ’hero’. "Please, you must come to the special performance I’m arranging here in Windhelm. I would be delighted for you to be my guest. Both of you, of course," he said, nodding to the Dunmer when he saw that the Dragonborn did not appear convinced.

Dravynea shrugged her shoulders with a grin. "Fine by me."

Bishop sighed for he knew, he just knew, what the answer was going to be. 

"I’ll be there."

* * *

"Seriously, Ladyship, you need to stop being so bloody _nice_ to everyone," Bishop commented angrily as he sipped his warm mead and watched the Dragonborn shudder at being called the poet’s ’muse’.

He was angrier still at the damned kiss that fop placed on her hand as they parted. Wishing to take her hand and replace the claim that prick left there with his own.

"But I like Dravynea..." she sulked and picked at her own drink.

"Enough to suffer an entire evening of caterwauling in ’your honour’ for her?" ’ _Please let her take the bait and cancel those plans_ ,’ he thought. 

Bishop wasn’t looking forward to a night of having to sit there and watch his... his... the Dragonborn being seduced in front of the entire damned Windhelm by some ridiculous singer. 

"...Maybe I can use it."

"Use what?" He turned to look at his Ladyship. He hoped she wasn’t suggesting to actually spend time with the damned singer.

"Well, if even people from Kynesgrove are coming here tonight to hear this performance, there’s going to be a lot of people, right?" she reasoned.

"Yeah, but from your dislike of crowds, I thought that would be more of a deterrent, right, Ladyship?"

Hildur took a breath to answer, then paused. Her masked face turned towards him quizzically, and Bishop realized that they have never discussed anything like that before. He’d just... noticed, that she tended to draw more into herself whenever surrounded by more than five strangers. That she only sang and laughed and swam and danced when alone - or in his company.

"...Right." She cleared her throat, mask still turned slightly towards him as if she was cautiously sizing him up. "Still. There would be a lot of people. That means probably also a bar or a buffet or something. People will eat, discuss the performance, and drink-"

Bishop groaned. "Oh, come on! Don’t tell me this is about the wine! Are you seriously going to try and sell your wine to half of Eastmarch when it doesn’t even exist yet?"

She chuckled. "Maaaybe?"

"I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?" He just sighed and palmed his face. 

But she wouldn’t budge. "Come on, ranger. I’m sure it won’t be _that_ bad!"

* * *

"Good evening, Windhelm! May I thank you all for venturing out on this cold, wintry night to witness the One, the Great, Alec, the Prince of Song!"

"Humble, much?" Bishop growled. This evening did not look promising.

"Hush, _darling_ , just remember - we’re not here for him."

"I’m trying to..." he grumbled but settled down to what promised to be an extremely long and annoying night.

The bard on stage continued, "I wish to dedicate tonight’s performance to someone very special to me."

"Oh, no." Hildur fidgeted in her seat and started quietly muttering, "Please don’t mention me, please don’t mention me, just don’t mention me..."

The bard lay a hand on his heart and, yes, stared right at the suddenly very, very reluctant woman next to him. In contrast, Bishop was just starting to enjoy himself. "She is the most inspiring, beautiful woman I have ever met-"

" _You don’t even know my face, asshole,_ " she hissed quietly next to him and hunched her shoulders. Bishop had to fight the urge to snort.

"-and I have a song in my heart I must sing to her," the man on the podium finished with a flourish and a theatrical bow in the Dragonborn’s direction.

And _that’s_ when the music started.

" _~Let me dream of you and me~_ "

Hildur whimpered like a wounded animal. Bishop lost the fight and snorted. Hard.

But she didn’t reprimand him. Oh no.

Her hand shot out and grabbed hold of his thigh. "Bishop? I... might have made a terrible mistake."

"You wanted to be here, Princess," he grinned but still covered her hand with his own, enjoying their close contact very much. "Just think of all the people who can learn about your wine here."

She looked down at where her hand clutched at his leg and tried to withdraw it. Bishop didn’t let her. After a brief but intense struggle, they settled with their joined hands resting on the arm of his chair. He caressed the spot the man-child on the podium profaned with his lips, replacing the memory of him with his own touch.

" _~And wipe away the crying tears~_ "

"Accurate," Bishop muttered to her. "I’m definitely about to cry."

Now it was her turn to snort.

" _~Only yoooou can save me, only yooooou~_ "

"This sounds like a good idea for a drinking game." Bishop pulled her closer to him by her hand and whispered to her ear under the hood. "Drink a shot every time he says ’Only you’."

She turned towards him and whispered back, "No way, we’d end up drunk before the second chorus ended."

"That’s sort of the point, sweetheart," he grinned in the darkness.

"You’re not getting drunk tonight, ranger-danger, unless it’s on the jazbay wine I sacrificed so much for."

"Your wine doesn’t exist yet, Ladyship."

"That’s sort of the point, Bishop," she returned, tongue in cheek. "Now let us both suffer in silence."

"Spoilsport," he whispered, so close that his lips touched the hood.

Despite the loud music and the crowd behind them, he still heard the sharp intake of her breath and grinned in satisfaction.

" _~Let me love you, let me hold you, I will never let you goooo~_ "

"Sorry, man, you’re not my type."

"Oh? Do tell, who _is_ your type, Ladyship?"

She stayed suspiciously silent, but her hand clutched his a little harder.

" _~Only yoooou can save me, only yooooou~_ "

"Careful there, Ladyship. If you sink any lower in that chair, you’re going to fall on the floor and if you pull me down, I’ll fall right on top of you."

She straightened reluctantly. But she never let go of his hand. He smiled.

And then the song was finally over.

The bard bowed with a flourish to - even Bishop had to admit - thunderous applause. He started down the stairs, ostensibly to greet the adoring crowds, but the way he was always turned slightly towards the Dragonborn convinced Bishop that he was aiming for them.

Hildur obviously thought the same and did not want to greet him any more than he did. They both made a strategic retreat towards the buffet table, where Hildur noticed her Dunmer friend slowly eating a Honey Nut Treat.

"Great performance, was it not?" the Dunmer asked.

"Eh. Sure. Did you like it, Dravynea?"

The woman chuckled. "It was nice enough. Made me remember the old courtship songs I’ve heard as a young elf in Vivec City. A bit too bold, perhaps, but that’s Nords for you. But I have to admit, I am surprised. I would have thought you’d appreciate the love confession more, my friend."

"But it wasn’t a confession! Just... just a song, right? I mean, I don’t even know the man!"

"Sure sounded like a confession to me," the mage shrugged her shoulders.

"...Does everyone here think that?"

The looks on both Dravynea and Bishop’s face was answer enough.

"Damn."

The woman laughed. "Don’t worry. Not even Nords would expect you to take it seriously or to respond in kind."

"I should hope not," she muttered crossly, all too aware that her plans to lay low and not attract attention were now well and truly shot. "Not even my wine is worth this kind of trouble."

’ _Aaand here we go,_ ’ Bishop thought, almost admiring her tenacity.

"Wine?"

"Yeah, I’ve partnered up with Quintus to create a new type of Jazybay Wine. It should be ideal for mages, strengthen their magicka, and taste good too!"

"Huh, that does sound interesting. It would be nice to have a drink down in the mines, especially if it helped me with my actual job." She laughed. "It would probably be the first time drinking on the job was encouraged! I just hope it will taste good while chilled - the mines can get pretty hot, you know."

"Oh! That reminds me," she reached into the satchel at her hip and carefully pulled out a well-sealed little package. "Here, for you, some more Frost Salts."

"You are the sweetest child ever, Dragonborn," the mage smiled at her. "Here I thought I will have to spend the night in Windhelm of all places just to check and buy some at the White Phial in the morning. I’m so glad I can go straight home instead. But you do know I already taught you all I know about Alteration, right?"

Hildur’s voice turned warm, "Don’t you worry yourself over that. I’m always glad to help an old friend."

The mage smiled fondly at her again. Then she cleaned her hands of the sweets and said. "Well, it was a nice evening, and I thank you for the opportunity to attend the performance, but I must be going if I’m to make it back to Kynesgrove before midnight. I will talk to Iddra about your wine, see if we can make it part of the standard offer at Braidwood Inn. Be well, friend, and do come visit us sometimes."

"Gladly," Hildur nodded and they watched the woman leave the hall.

Then Bishop saw something far more concerning out of the corner of his eye. "The bard is aiming towards us, Ladyship. Unless you wish him to fawn over you some more, I suggest we leave. Now."

She turned slightly to see what he was looking at and noticed Alec indeed ’subtly’ making his way towards them.

"You know what? I just realized I don’t give a damn about politeness. You’re right, Bish, let’s go."

Before he could get over the shock that the overly-polite-to-strangers Dragonborn agreed with him, or his new nickname, she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her towards the exit.

Bishop grinned, squeezed her hand in his and gladly followed her out.

* * *

They both took a deep breath of the crisp night air as soon as they were out of that place.

"Well, that could have gone better."

"Speak for yourself, Ladyship, I happened to enjoy myself. Mostly at your expense, but it was enjoyable nonetheless."

She snorted. "Funny. But... since _I_ didn’t get to enjoy myself very much..."

"Hmm, we could go back to the Inn, to the nice and cosy bed you paid for, we could both enjoy listening to you _sing_ for me," he pulled her closer to himself by the waist. "Ooor~ we could just abandon the city altogether. Go into the wilderness. Just you and me. Make love under the stars..."

To his surprise, she chuckled, "Tempting, my ranger, very tempting."

"Really?" He couldn’t help the startled exclamation.

"But I had a different type of entertainment in mind."

Bishop knew he shouldn’t feel surprised or disappointed, but he still was. "It’s a bit too late in the day to go searching for bandits to chop into pieces, don’t you think?"

She laughed. "Not that kind of entertainment either, Bishop. I meant we could go to the Docks. The Argonians will have some food prepared and trust me, their fare is much better than what you’ll get at Candleheart."

"You have friends at the Argonian Assemblage, too? Heh, you never cease to surprise me, Ladyship. From Jarls, through mages, right down to the dock workers."

"Yeah, well... To be honest, I prefer the dock workers to the Jarls. They’re more honest."

He scoffed. "I can believe that. But isn’t it a bit too late tonight for... Oh, wait. Don’t tell me. You get a special invitation and can just waltz in to their homes whenever you feel like it."

"Something like that," she answered cheekily. "Come on, it will be fun!"

Not even an hour later, Bishop had to admit that it _was_ fun.

"I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like this before," he admitted as he ate another spoonful of the soup-stew-goulash thing, fed a couple bites of fish to Karnwyr and watched the Argonians hurry to and fro, carrying tools, boxes, barrels and even musical instruments.

"Fish chowder, special Argonian edition, only to be found in Windhelm!" Hildur exclaimed as she swung her legs to and fro, sitting atop a fish-barrel.

The Argonians had welcomed Hildur as one of their own the moment she arrived, then led them both to the back of the Assemblage, through a semi-hidden door into a stone courtyard Bishop had never seen before. He doubted many humans have.

The Argonian man leaning against the wall next to them chuckled. "And you’re likely the only humans who ever got to taste it. Enjoy it while you can. You can only ever find it here with us."

"Aww, come on, Scouts. One day I’ll get you to tell me your secret recipe, you’ll see!"

"Hah! Dear Hildur, even if you got the recipe, it will never taste that good if you made it. For you see, it needs to be made from the spices stolen right from Torbjorn Shatter-Shields fat fists."

"So what you’re saying is..."

"The secret ingredient, Dragonborn, is _petty revenge_."

Hildur laughed in delight. Even Bishop didn’t bother to hide a smile. These were his kind of people.

The second Argonian by the pot just shook her head with a smile and handed them a second bowl with some more bread. "Shahvee thinks her friend should be more cautious. She would not wish to see her nest-brother hurt if the Nords ever find out."

Scouts-Many-Marches only rolled his eyes at her. "Keep your scales on, Shahvee. I’m the very soul of cautiousness."

"I certainly hope so."

Scouts grinned. "But we’ve chatted long enough. You see, we have a surprise for you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"A performance better and greater than your proper Nording bard could give you! Prepare to be dazzled, my friend."

That gave them both a pause. "How do you know about that? I thought Argonians weren’t... I haven’t seen any of your people in the performance hall."

Scouts just grinned, "We have our ways."

"But... Wait! Does that mean-? Did _everyone_ see that performance?!"

The Argonian’s grin just got wider, displaying all his sharp teeth, "Pretty much. Yeah. Or they at least heard about it."

Hildur groaned and bowed her head dangerously close to her Fish Chowder.

"Careful there, Princess," Bishop laughed. "That bard isn’t worth getting a face full of fish."

The Dragonborn ignored him. "I’ll never live this down. Please tell me you have something to distract me from my misery."

Both Argonians laughed now, but it was the woman who responded. "Yes, Scouts was nice enough to ask a couple friends here tonight, to come and sing for us the songs of our people. Some of them have even learned from the Tree-Minders of Blackmarsh, a great honour."

They chatted and ate for a while. As time went on, Bishop noticed how the Argonians stacked several barrels and crates together and covered it with wooden planks, creating an impromptu podium.

And then they saw them. Huge, hulking brutes of lizard-men with tails fully as thick as Bishop’s chest, dressed in a strange combination of cloth wrap and armour to protect said tails. They climbed onto the podium, and the whole square fell silent, waiting.

The sound of powerful drums reverberated in every corner of the frozen Nordic square, bringing with it the sense of warmth and power. If Bishop closed his eyes, he could almost see gigantic trees gushing with life and sap. The sound of drums was quickly joined with another, this one harder to define. it took him a while, but Bishop eventually realized it came directly from the Argonians’ mouths - a combination of their own guttural voices and some strange metal instruments attached right to their mouths.

Then one of them started to ’sing’. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. A combination of shouting, poetry and monotonous chanting that evoked both feelings of awe, mystery and yet sounded like the most natural sound in the world.

"~ _Remember, that we all are brothers_

_All people, beasts, trees and stone and wind_

_We all descend from the one great being_

_That was always there_

_Before people lived and named it_

_Before the first seed sprouted_

_It was always there_ "

The drums raised in tempo. It became faster and faster, the music louder and louder as more joined in the rhythm until they felt like they were part of one giant being, playing the sounds through its children, all joined as one.

When the song ended, none dared to interrupt the sudden silence. They all simply breathed and felt the aftershocks of the power stirred in the air. And waited.

The leader on the stage started beating out a softer rhythm, others slowly joining him. 

This song had no words or indeed much of a melody. It was a song for action, for dancing, working, running around and simply living. And that’s what the Argonians around them did. 

The activity around them slowly resumed, people carrying barrels, cargo, children running underfoot, some Argonians handing out bowls of Fish Chowder or other foods, several dancers twirling around torches lit with fire in a complex dance to the astonishment of onlookers.

Bishop didn’t want to admit it, but he was impressed. He had never seen anything like that before and looking at the still frozen woman next to him, the Dragonborn hadn’t either.

They finished their food in silence, enjoying the ambience of the impromptu festival. The night had now fallen, making the fire-dancers stand out even more against the darkness.

The Dragonborn paid for the food - overpaid, really, as Bishop noticed - and refused to take her coin back, thanking their hosts for the evening.

"Honestly, it was amazing, friends," she shook her head with a smile in her voice. "You managed to turn our evening around. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a performance so much. I am grateful I was allowed to witness it."

"It was our pleasure, Dragonborn," Shahvee commented, while Scouts-Many-Marches vigorously nodded his head. "You have given us hope, returned what was stolen from us and forced our employers to pay us fair wages. In doing so, you saved many a young life in the Docks."

Scouts smiled and said his goodbyes as well, "Our is to smile at your passing, friend. Don’t forget - you’ll always be welcome here."

* * *

The journey back to Candleheart Hall was spent in companionable silence. Not even the news there the innkeeper sold the last free room before Bishop could buy it for himself was enough to spoil their mood.

It was so peaceful that he didn’t even leer or crack any inappropriate jokes about sleeping together. They simply prepared themselves for the night and climbed under the furs.

After all, it was not the first night they spent in each other’s arms, even if they were drunk, that time at Valtheim Towers.

Bishop lay there and listened to the woman in his arms breathe. 

It was strange. They have only met less than a week ago, but he felt as if he had known her for a lot longer than that. How quickly things could change - a week ago he stood there, supporting a wall at the Sleeping Giant Inn and bitterly regretted not having anyone to help him save the only being he cared about in the whole damn world. And now here he was - his faithful friend at his side and a soft, warm, caring woman in his arms.

Sure, she had her flaws, the utter confidence bordering on arrogance in her power being one, and more masks around strangers than he could count another. But with some slight shock, he realized that he actually trusted her - to have his back and not betray him in a fight or for a fat coin purse, but more than that, he knew he could trust her not to hurt him. 

Not intentionally, anyway. 

He hugged her tighter and tried not to imagine the day when someone will come around; someone better, smarter, richer, kinder, who will steal her away from him and love her with all his heart.

But he won’t allow the future to interrupt his present. For now, his Dragonborn, Hildur, lay in _his_ arms, and he planned to make the most of it.

He will take her masks off, one by one, and enjoy the presence of the laughing, smiling woman in his company.

But he still couldn’t help himself...

" _~Only yoooooou_ ," he mock-sung right in her ear.

"Shut up," she growled and elbowed a chortling Bishop in the ribs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Snowberry song is the old Spider-man theme: watch?v=SUtziaZlDeE
> 
> The 'mysterious transport' mentioned in this chapter comes from the Soul Forge Mystic Arena mod at Skyrimnexus.
> 
> Also, guess who's coming up next? :D

"Hey, Bish, you know what I just realized?"

"What is it, Ladyship?"

"That I really don't want to sit around for a week doing nothing. Especially not in bloody Windhelm of all places."

Bishop scoffed. "What, the ever-present stench of oppression and racism not good enough for you? Or is the patronising arrogance of the most proper Nords that ever properly properred not to your liking?"

"That's not even a word, man!" She laughed. "So I guess Windhelm is not your favourite place either?"

"Nooo, not at all, Ladyship. Who wouldn't like conceited bigots who pretend they are better than everyone else just because their city is a touch colder than the others?" He took a good long drink of his ale and fixed her with a _look_.

"Alright, alright already!" She lifted her hands in surrender. "Especially since I agree with you, for the most part. For the Nordiest town in Skyrim, my favourite people here are certainly not the Nords. That's what I had in mind, actually. We could... start for Winterhold early if you'd like?"

"And put your epic wine-conquest of the world on hold? Perish the thought! Wasn't that the whole point of suffering this city in the first place?" He lifted an eyebrow, then paused with his tankard halfway to his mouth. " _Waaaait~_! Do you actually want to go and sell the bloody wine before you even have it?" He started grinning, "Ha! I'm right, aren't I? Oooh, this I have to see!"

The Dragonborn fidgeted, then bought yet another Honey Nut Treat from Elda. ' _Good thing the girl gets so much exercise_ ', Bishop thought. Then he imagined her beautiful thighs that he so fiercely remembered from their impromptu swim at Valtheim Towers, except this time more rounded; lush and ready to be squeezed, and his eyes turned glassy. ' _On second thought, maybe she could do with a little break from travelling and fighting... Damn. I'm getting too worked up over a girl whose face I've never even seen. Get a grip, Bishop._ '

"I'm not really selling them the wine as such..." she began, then took a brief look around the mostly-empty tavern.

"Oh? Do tell."

"I... might have discovered a way through which goods can be transported instantaneously across large distances."

"...What?"

"All I'm saying is, there could be a way to have goods delivered to them straight from Windhelm without them ever having to leave the safety and comfort of the College."

Bishop palmed his face. "And let me guess. The first product to test this mysterious instantaneous transportation could be your wine?"

"And a lot of alchemy ingredients and potions too! Not _only_ the wine," the smile in her voice was obvious. "But yes, we could build a link between the White Phial and the College. Remove the risk of damaging precious cargo while in transport and-"

"Save your sales pitch for the mages, Ladyship. It makes no difference to me. I'm all up for travel anyway," he grinned and took another sip of his ale. "But I do admit to being curious. How did you manage it? Did you, I don't know, develop a new spell?"

She shook her head with a self-deprecating chuckle he had never heard from her before. "No, no, I'm not nearly skilled enough for that."

Bishop narrowed his eyes. What was that about? His confident, sometimes even overconfident Dragon Lady was self-conscious of her casting? He couldn't see why. Her skills as a battlemage were certainly impressive.

"I simply discovered an existing method that could be used in new ways," she continued. "I found it in a place called the 'Soul Forge' if you want to know. It is like a place... in between this world and the Aetherial planes. And though I don't use most of its features, the teleportation is pretty nice."

"Wait, are we talking _actual teleportation_ here? As in, whoosh, disappear from one place, turn up in another?"

"Yep." She popped the sound out.

"...You have a way to _teleport_. And you want to use it to _sell wine_." He couldn't help it and started laughing.

"I just want to use it to offer extra benefits to people who are not scared of magic!" She defended herself. "I don't know if you noticed, but most Nords aren't exactly comfortable with magic. And if I want to use it as a standardised method of transportation, it would be ideal to have it first tested by people who could handle any potential fallout!"

"Sure, sure, my enchanting sorceress. Sell your wine as an 'educational tool of progress' or whatever. I just wonder why you don't use it to travel everywhere."

"I guess I just like travelling the normal way better," she calmly responded and took another bite of the Honey Nuts. "To be honest, I mostly use the Soul Forge for convenient storage."

Bishop took another sip of his ale before the implications of what she said hit him. "Storage?! You can store things there?" That was when it clicked. "That satchel! You... you stick so many ingredients in your satchel but it never gets full or slows you down. Are you-?"

"Sending it directly into the Soul Forge? You bet I do!" She smiled under the mask. "It's certainly handy when I want to have all my weapons and armours readily available, but don't want to carry them everywhere with me. I just pop over to the Soul Forge and get what I need."

"I'm almost afraid to ask - how much stuff do you have in there?"

He could feel the self-satisfaction rolling off her in waves. "Enough to equip an army and feed a city for a year. I've been working on some extra stasis and preservation spells too," she added, trying to sound humble. She failed.

"Not too well, going by the Jazbay Grapes," he couldn't help but tease.

"Yes, that's why I said I'm still working on them." She nonchalantly took another bite of her treat and innocently added, "But I think the spells are not too bad, to pass eight-months-old Jazbay by a master alchemist for those gathered only a week before."

Bishop just stared. He knew he shouldn't be surprised anymore, but he still was. "You- You _tricked-_ "

"Anyway. I think my colleagues will appreciate the opportunity to test this mysterious new magic." She blithely continued just as Bishop gave up, shook his head and took another sip, "Considering I'm technically their boss, it's sort of my job to bring new and unexplored magic to them."

Another spray of ale on his armour instead of in his belly. Bishop idly thought that at this rate, he'll be forced to stop drinking altogether.

"You're _what_?"

"Their technically boss? You know, the Archmage?" At his incredulous stare, she fidgeted. "Did I not mention it?"

"No, Ladyship. You did _not_ mention you are the most powerful mage in Skyrim!"

"Oh, come on, Bishop. Don't make this weird!" She pleaded with him. "The title is mostly honorary anyway."

"Oh, _really_? How many other mages actually develop new spells and discover new magic?"

"The faculty does, certainly. The master wizards have lectures about anything they discover."

"So you rank _at least_ as high as these 'master wizards'. Right. And how many of them have brought magic as new and useful as _teleportation_?"

She fidgeted but remained quiet.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Damn, an _Archmage_." He shook his head and took a gulp of his ale. "What are you even doing running across Skyrim, rescuing wolves and making wine when you're one of the most powerful people in the whole damn country?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Discovering new magic out there in the world. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not the type to spend my life locked up in a tower, no matter how impressive."

Bishop chuckled, finished his ale and stood up. "That you're not, my darling Magical Princess. Alright, let's get out of here. The place was starting to feel stifling anyway."

Hildur said nothing, but Bishop knew enough of her by now to see the way she curled up in her stool like a satisfied cat and knew she was pleased.

* * *

" _~Snowberries, snowberries,  
_ _Stop the frost from biting ears,  
_ _Chew one up - any size,  
_ _The red juices won't attract flies.  
_ _Open up!  
_ _Swallow some snowberries!_ "

"Why do you always sing about everything?" Bishop asked, exasperated as he helped her gather half a bush of snowberries.

"What am I supposed to do? Mutter it under my breath? That would just make me look insane."

"Couldn't you just be quiet?"

"No," she quipped back and Bishop got a distinct feeling that if she didn't have the mask on, she'd be blowing raspberries at him. Instead, she chuckled quietly and continued to gather snowberries. Again. This was about the fifth bush they passed today that she gathered that many from. Aside from the ones she just casually plucked as they passed and stuck them in her mask to eat right away.

After a moment, she added in a quieter, softer voice, "It gets lonely on the road, you know. Too quiet." She gave him a moment to respond. When he said nothing, only lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, she continued, "In the past, there were days, maybe even weeks, when the only voices I heard belonged to bandits shouting battle-cries... or Draugr shouting battle-cries. Maybe a dragon or two as well. But definitely no one to have a friendly conversation with."

"And talking to yourself makes you sound crazy. So you created these little songs instead?" Bishop asked as kindly as he could, glad to see her open up to him even more.

One more mask down.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Pretty much, yes."

"Couldn't you have just hired someone to be your companion?" he asked as he popped a berry into his mouth. "Or even just invited someone along. I'm sure there are many who would gladly travel with you."

"I guess I could have. But then, I was involved in... some really dangerous business. I didn't want them to get hurt."

Bishop snorted. "And what am I? Chopped liver? Is it somehow all right for you to risk _my_ life?"

Her voice was soothing, but a bit sad as she responded, "Of course not. But the most dangerous quests are over now. The dragons are leaderless and more-or-less pacified, the vampires are dead for good, I've already killed Potema and Morvarth, Madanach and Silver-Blood, destroyed the Dark Brotherhood, liberated Dawnstar from the nightmares and solved Windhelm's murders, and cleared out countless tombs and caves. Aside from the threat of re-igniting the civil war and some random beasts and bandits, Skyrim should be quiet for now."

She shook her head, "But you have my word. If I ever get involved in something crazy and dangerous again, we will part ways until I have dealt with it. I won't deliberately put you in harm's way."

That made him stop in his tracks. That... was not what he meant. Nor what he wanted.

He tried to quickly do an about-face. "I didn't mean it like that, Princess. You might have noticed by now that I run my mouth a lot. I don't really mean most of it," he admitted with more honestly than anyone else ever heard from him. He tried for a light tone but had a feeling he failed.

"But you do have a point, Bishop. I can't ask you to risk your life whenever I get involved in another suicide mission."

He was starting to get a bit angry. "Well, if they are 'suicide missions', then maybe _you_ shouldn't get involved either."

"Sometimes, it really can't be avoided and the problems must be solved."

"Then let someone _else_ solve them!"

"There is often no one else, Bishop." She shook her head, but her voice was no longer so sad. "And when there's a choice between dying when the world ends because no one saved it and possibly dying in a fight trying to stop the world's end, I will at least try to help."

He quickly stepped around the bush and grabbed her shoulders. "Could we please stop it with the talk of dying? You're not dying anytime soon, not if I have anything to say about it!" He remembered their conversation at Valtheim Towers, about Sovngarde and 'more dead friends than living ones'.

Did she still desire to go back to Sovngarde so much?

Could _his_ company be enough to keep her in this world instead?

Her eyes under the mask were smiling. "You are very kind, ranger. Thank you," she responded, then reached out her hand and brushed her thumb along the corner of his mouth.

He blinked down at her in surprise, then watched as her eyes widened and she tried to turn away with a muttered excuse of 'brushing away snowberry juice'.

This time, he didn't let her.

He pulled her even tighter into his arms. "Ladyship. _Hildur_. You know I'm here for you whenever you need me. Right?"

For a brief moment, she was tense, then relaxed and hugged him back. "I didn't know that, actually, but it's nice to know you'll follow a nice pair of legs to Oblivion and back," she tried to joke the intimacy away, but he wouldn't allow it.

He held her close for several long moments until he felt her relax in his arms.

"I need to ask, Bishop. What is this... thing between us? What do you see it as?"

She might pretend to be strong, but he could hear how small her voice became. He chose his words very carefully, feeling that if he didn't get this part right, he won't get another chance.

"You're the first person I've learned to trust in years. Maybe in my life. You've become important to me, ...Hildur. I'd like us to... continue travelling together. See where we go from there. See how far we're willing to take this." He picked up one of her hands - soft hands of a lady despite the immense power they wielded, just like the rest of her - and placed a small kiss on the back. "What about you? Are you willing to do the same? To trust me?"

She leaned more into him, laid her head on his shoulder and whispered into his armour. "Yes."

Bishop smiled and hugged her even closer. "Alright then. We will try and see where this goes." He guessed where her chin would be and lifted her face to look him in the eyes again. "And Hildur? No more talk of leaving me behind, agreed?"

She chuckled weakly, "Agreed. Guess I'll have to cancel all my suicide-missions plans, then."

"That you do, Ladyship, that you do." They stood there like that for a moment, smiling at each other.

Then Bishop cleared his throat. "Yeah. So. I'm not exactly a romance kinda guy. Come on. Let's continue on to the famous College. The wine isn't going to sell itself."

Hildur laughed and took a step back.

They continued their journey. And if their hands brushed more often, or if they decided to intertwine their fingers, it was no one's business but their own.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I love Tolfdir. He's a badass grandpa who can totally kick your ass, and then forget where he left his toothbrush. :D

"What is such a rose doing out here in the cold, my dear?"

The Dragonborn paused with one leg on the step to the Frozen Hearth Inn and turned her masked face towards the mage-boy who just spoke. "'Rose'? Is that a compliment for my face? How do you know what I look like under my mask? Can you see through metal?"

The mage chuckled pompously, "I am a man of many talents, my Rose."

"No, seriously, I mean it. Can you see through metal? If yes, I'll buy the spell tome from you for, hmm, let's say ten thousand gold."

The mage boggled his eyes at her. Then he stammered out, "I, well, that is to say, I've _heard_ that-"

"Oh, then you _can't_ see what I look like. Great. Kindly move aside, I do need to get out of the cold, as you so helpfully pointed out."

The man appeared briefly flummoxed as if things weren't going his way and it was such a rare occurrence that he did not know how to react. Then he rallied himself and tried to continue as if nothing strange happened. "I am Darren. Let me invite you into the Frozen Hearth; we can warm ourselves by the fire."

Bishop could literally feel her eye roll. "I believe I just invited myself." With that, she strolled past the reeling mage and walked inside.

Bishop chuckled and made to follow. "That's my girl," he commented proudly. "Not one to wait for an invitation."

"Did you infect her with your poor manners then, you barbarian lout?" The mage drew himself up arrogantly. "Such a shame. For a sweet rose such as her to keep company with a flea-bitten mongrel, it's repulsive."

"Oh, but she likes my company, little mage. Wanna know why? I didn't try to kiss her ass before I even introduced myself and I don't throw awkward and obvious lies in her face."

With a brief, startling moment of clarity, Bishop realized he might have just revealed the truth not only to the mageling, but also to himself. It was true - he might have mistaken Hildur for a man when they first met, but even once he realized the truth, he never tried to kiss up to her or treated her with any less respect than she deserved. He made a small mental note to definitely continue with that and not end up like this smarmy man-child.

He shook his head. "Give up, man. You ruined your chances as soon as you called her 'a rose' when you haven't even seen her face."

"I did not ask for your advice, you uncivilised ruffian!" With the amount of anger the mageling emitted, it was a wonder his hair didn't catch on fire.

Bishop just rolled his eyes, too tired and cold after their three-days-long journey to Winterhold to argue with fools any further, and stepped past him into the Inn. Sleeping in caves during blizzards didn't improve anyone's mood, no matter how romantic the cuddling for warmth was. Especially since that cuddling also involved Karnwyr.

By the time he walked up to the bar, Hildur had already managed to order them dinner. Her favourite grilled leeks for herself and a nice bit of venison for him, just as he liked. Bishop smiled and stepped up next to her, one hand on her waist, to reach around and help her carry the plates. She leaned briefly against his side with fondness, then picked up her own dinner and turned to look around the inn for a good place to sit.

When she aimed for the fancier set of chairs and table, Bishop briefly considered warning her that it probably belonged to the mage, but then shrugged his shoulders and went after her. Now that they were safe and warm, it might be fun to see her verbally eviscerate that pompous idiot. A man had to take his fun where he could get it after all, and his almost-lover's sharp tongue could be a great source of fun indeed.

As soon as she sat down, the mage immediately claimed the seat next to her and began again, "Ah, sweet rose, you've come! Please, sit here next to me and-"

Hildur just rolled her eyes. "You know, if you want to join the College, you need to pass the entrance test like everyone else. Seducing the Archmage will _not_ magically grant you a spot."

Another round of stammering. Was he turning red? _Yes_ , Bishop was amused to note, _he was_. But at least it provoked an honest answer out of him. The boy finally showed a bit of backbone. " _Excuse me?!_ I am not a mere _apprentice_! I am a member of the College, in good standing!"

She lost her smile. "Then where _the fuck_ have you been when Savos and Mirabelle sacrificed their lives for us?"

"I-, I did not-, I do not-"

"Yes, it was quite obvious you 'did not'. You weren't there when we fought for our lives and for Winterhold against the Anomalies. When Ancano tried to destroy us, and the world, like the power-hungry idiot he was, you weren't there." She shook her head. "The court mages I can understand, they aren't able to leave their posts without the express permission of their respective Jarls, who could not send them because Jarl Korir wouldn't allow it for fear of appearing weak, but you? If you are truly a member of the College and you were nearby, then you have no excuse for not joining in on the defence."

"But- My lady, I-"

"Save it." She rose up from her seat, taking her plate with her, then turned to offer one last comment. "By the way, all the real mages have luxurious quarters at the Hall of Countenance or at least the Hall of Attainment. Yet here you are, with what I now see is your personal furniture at the _inn_. You do realize only those who have been cast out, like Nelacar, do that. Right?"

And with that, she turned away to carry her plates pointedly to the other end of the Frozen Hearth.

Bishop happily followed her, but at the last moment turned back towards the mageling. He couldn't resist a last, cheap parting shot, "You know, she's not really a Rose. She's a Dragon's Tongue."

* * *

"Hmm, going by your little spiel back there, I'm guessing we're going to sleep in your 'luxurious quarters' and we won't be staying at the Inn, right?" He asked only half-teasing.

At his relaxed tone, her shoulders unclenched and she began to eat her dinner, "Yup, got that right. I have some epic badass rooms up there at the College, so why should we pay for some mediocre bed at the inn?"

"Careful there, Princess, wouldn't want to reveal to the innkeeper what you really think," he teased. "How would you then convince Dagur to sell your wine?"

She laughed, a beautiful light sound, just as he intended. The mageling was all but forgotten already. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, Bish. I plan to sell it to the College, not the inn. Especially since I plan to use magic to deliver it!" Then she paused to look around the shabby inn. "But you might be onto something here. I could try to sell it to both the College _and_ the inn. The College's castoffs and hopefuls might want some, too. Though I don't know if delivering it the normal way all the way up here would be worth the trouble." She calmly took another bite of her dinner and looked around the inn. "We'll see. I'll have to think about it."

Bishop chuckled, "As you wish. In the meantime, I can't really wait to see these 'luxurious quarters' of yours, Ladyship." He couldn't help but tease her a bit, "And all the skirts around, males wearing dresses..."

She openly laughed at him, "Some women too! But hey, not like you could tell them apart, right, Bishop?"

"Ouch." He groused but grinned anyway. "I guess I was asking for that one."

She didn't respond but bit into the leek with such gusto that Bishop definitely got the message.

' _Heh, I still got it in me,_ ' he thought as he watched her happily munch on her dinner. ' _I do know how to make my lady smile._ '

* * *

'Master Wizard Tolfdir' nodded sagely along as his... girlfriend? future lover? described her plan... and new product. "It's good to see Skyrim still has such fine people, interested in continuing their education and the noble pursuit of magic."

Hildur vigorously nodded to him and opened her mouth but before she could push on further, the wizened old man continued, "But I am not certain making apprentices both drunk _and_ more magically powerful is a good idea, my dear. They do get into enough trouble as it is, don't they?" he lifted his eyebrows at her and Hildur _squirmed_.

Bishop was just dying to hear the story behind those not-so-subtle looks.

"I-, ehm, I didn't really think about that, Master Tolfdir," she admitted but with laughter in her voice. "I wouldn't want to make your job even harder than it is. Especially wouldn't want to test the apprentices' _creativity_." Oh yes, she was definitely chuckling.

The old man soon joined her and laughed as well. "But I do have to admit to being curious about this 'instantaneous transportation' you mention, as well as the wine. On behalf of the research behind it, of course."

"Of course," she nodded sagely along, but Bishop could tell they both knew that the faculty won't be able to resist drinking the newest experimental wine-potion.

So, mission successful, he guessed. ' _Damn, that woman's good_ ,' he thought with a fond shake of his head.

Tolfdir continued, "It might also become a reliable method of communication, don't you think? Perhaps in the future, we won't have to rely on couriers for important matters that require your attention, Archmage. We could send you messages right away."

"Ah- ...yes. Actually, yes, that's a great idea. We might want to test it out," she agreed readily enough, though Bishop wasn't so certain she'd be so willing to handle 'urgent matters' of the College as urgently as they thought she should.

Bishop grinned and decided to interject before the old man could gently bully her into it. "Well, glad that's settled then," he stretched a bit and continued. "Now where's the luxury I was promised, Ladyship? We should see about getting a bath as soon as possible. We don't exactly smell like _roses_."

She snorted, just as he intended. "This way, my Princess," she gestured towards a nearby door. "I shall prepare you a bath post-haste, my Princess. Prepare to be astonished and overwhelmed with luxury, my Princess," she teased him.

Bishop just laughed and made to follow.

The old wizard's voice stopped them before they could get too far however, "Just a moment, my dear!"

Hildur turned back towards him and the man continued, "The Faculty has prepared something for you. Give me a moment, please." He reached into a cabinet near the bed and pulled out... a set of robes?

"These are for you, Archmage. Sergius has been hard at work, and finished these a couple days ago."

"But- These are..."

Tolfdir smiled. "Proper female Archmage Robes for our newest Archmage of course. Without the hood, as we noticed you like to wear that mask of yours."

"I- Thank you, and I-" her voice wobbled.

"Think nothing of it, my dear." The old wizard smiled at her. "We can't let our beloved Archmage go without the best equipment she's entitled to, now can we? Especially since she is proving such a great help in both studying new forms of magic, and representing the College in a positive light in Skyrim."

Bishop could see the way she fidgeted and clutched at the hem of her new robes. "Thank you, master Tolfdir. I- I'll go dress in them right away."

She turned on her heel and all but fled.

"Huh," Bishop watched her leave, thinking hard. What was that about?

The old man watched him with a knowing smile for a moment, then said in a very calm and collected way that Bishop learned long ago signified danger. "Do take good care of her. She might be a more... facultative member of the College than most, but she saved all our lives and risked her own in the process. We might gripe and compete with each other, but there is not one person here who wouldn't jump to her defence."

Bishop opened his mouth to snark back, then paused. He... didn't want to argue. Especially since he probably would have issued the same warning in their shoes.

It was obvious this old man cared for Hildur. And she cared for him.

"Noted," he shrugged his shoulders instead. Then he grinned, "I have a more pressing issue to discuss with you, however."

The wizard raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised that the scruffy ranger had anything to discuss with him.

"I need you to tell me what exactly happened when she was an apprentice here."

Tolfdir laughed. Heartily. Then he shook his head and beckoned Bishop to follow. "Come, my boy. I have so much to tell you!"

* * *

"Aah, I remember the first lesson she attended." He chuckled over a mug of mead. " You can't imagine how strange she appeared to us. It was like watching a dragon swoop down and roost among chickens. Three fine young apprentices in hooded novice robes and next to them, a living legend, covered from head to toe in dragon scales and wearing a terrifying ancient mask of a priest half the faculty of master wizards wouldn't dare to take on."

Bishop grinned. "Actually, I can picture it perfectly, thanks."

Tolfdir laughed outright. "Then imagine it from my point of view, dear boy! There I was, about to teach the precious young apprentices a Lesser Ward, when I asked our very own Dragonborn to assist me in the demonstration and instructed her to cast 'a ward'. You know what she did? Cast a perfect Greater Ward and held it as if it meant nothing. I actually had to instruct her to cast the lesser variant, so that the other apprentices at least had a chance of copying it and learn something."

"That does sound like her," Bishop nodded. "She might be confident to the point of arrogance, but it is usually well earned. When she says she can do something, you can bet your last pair of pants that she can actually do it."

"That she can, my dear boy, that she can. You know, when she first came to us, I overheard a conversation between her and one of her classmates, J'Zargo where he asked her if she has already mastered Expert level destruction spells."

Bishop grinned, "And she has?"

"She has," Tolfdir nodded sagely then spoiled the effect by chuckling. "My, was J'Zargo ever surprised. The boy probably thought he'd be the best. And he certainly applies himself. But not enough to beat someone who takes on Dragons on the daily, I imagine." He sighed, amused. "Sometimes I think she came here merely to formalize her education and be acknowledged as skilled, rather than from any true need to study the Arcane. But she is proving to be excellent for the College nonetheless."

Toldfir took another sip and leaned in closer. "But even the greatest mage can be brought down but arrogance and stupidity. If not their own, then someone else's. And she tried so, so very hard to make friends with the other apprentices..."

Well then, _now_ it was getting somewhere interesting. "What happened?"

"I saw her get back to J'zargo one day, heavily singed and stinking of burnt hair. She threw a pile of scrolls on his desk and asked him, calm as you please, 'Were they supposed to explode? Because they exploded.' Poor J'Zargo was quite shocked. Not to mention embarrassed. The Master Wizards laughed at this one for a while, let me tell you.

"Then came the matter with Onmund. Most of us heard him ask her to help him get his family amulet back. Then we have not heard from the Dragonborn for a couple weeks, when one day she casually strolls back, twenty Ebony swords and battleaxes on her back and a bag full of ectoplasm. And you know the first thing she said? 'Here's your amulet.' I swear, that girl lives for the drama. She likes shocking us way too much."

"Yeah, that does sound like her," Bishop laughed openly. This was golden. Blackmail material for _weeks_.

"But poor darling Brelyna was the worst. For them both, I tell you." Tolfdir laughed. "I actually considered stepping in at one point, but eventually decided the embarrassment to be a valuable lesson on its own. For both of them, really."

"What happened?"

"Brelyna decided to test her experimental spells on Hildur. Highly experimental spells. No one even knows what they were meant to do, since Brelyna refuses to speak of it, but we all saw what they did. The Dragonborn spent two days greener than an Orsimer. But did it stop her from coming back? Oh, no! As soon as her skin tone reverted back - mind you, after this incident, she started wearing her Dragonscale Armour, gloves and boots included all the time while at the College - she came back to Brelyna to try again."

Tolfdir paused and Bishop couldn't wait to hear more, "So what happened?"

"She was turned into a cow."

Bishop stared for a moment. Then burst into laughter. "A _cow_?!"

"And then a horse."

Bishop only laughed harder.

"And then a dog."

He slapped his knee. "You're messing with me!"

Tolfdir laughed as well and shook his head. "Half the faculty gathered to watch the spectacle, naturally. The Dragonborn, changing shapes before our eyes, and the only thing she was able to do was to send Brelyna some accusatory glares. And all the while Brelyna was yelling, 'I can fix this! I can fix this!' and turning the Dragonborn into new shapes and forms. The girls promised each other never to speak of it again..." he sent Bishop an evil grin, "...but the Faculty made no such promises. I swear, it is the most helpful tool to convince young apprentices not to try magic out of their level. You could say it was... _educational_."

"So you tell the story to every new group of apprentices?! Hahahahahahahahahaaaaa," Bishop laughed so hard he had to put his head on the table. Oooh, this was _rich_.

"It is _educational_ ," the old man insisted but his mischievous grin gave him away. He enjoyed embarrassing his new Archmage way too much.

' _Hm, maybe these mages aren't so bad after all_ ,' he thought and continued to laugh until his sides hurt.

* * *

Screenshots - Spot the difference:

* * *

Screenshots - Newest apprentice:


	8. Chapter 8

Tolfdir was nice enough to show him the way to the Archmage quarters, then parted ways with him with a knowing smirk. Bishop made his way up the infinite stairs to the rooms they'd be spending their night in.

He strolled in as if he owned the place, intending to tease his girlfriend about the 'cow business' a little bit. Perhaps catch her with her mask down. She was already decent, more's the shame, and sitting at the edge of an admittedly impressive bed.

Bishop opened his mouth to greet her with something awful like ' _Cow_ 're you doing?', but stopped himself.

Something was wrong.

She was hunched over the old robes, fiddling with the hem and even though he couldn't see her face, he knew that were eyes were glassy and not all there.

He slowed down his pace, approaching her gently, like an injured animal, then came to sit next to her on the bed.

"So. The new robes fit you well, then?"

She startled. "What? Oh, yes, they do. They are just perfect."

He gently turned her masked face towards him and covered her fidgeting fingers with his own hand. "Then what's the problem?"

Her eyes were... lost. For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then she sighed and looked away.

"You know, I lied to you, about why I wear these robes. Or- at least I haven't told you the complete truth. While I do like the enchantment, that is not the reason why I wear them. It's..." Her head bowed. "Do you want to hear it? It's a long and not very nice tale."

He moved even closer to her and placed one arm around her shoulders. This was important to her, he felt it. "I want to hear everything you wish to tell me, Ladyship."

There was a small, almost imperceptible exhale that signified a smile. He hugged her shoulders even tighter.

"Alright. Where to begin?

"When I first came here, I was already famous, but... I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I- I hoped to find a home at the College. Made friends with the apprentices and the master wizards, worked hard to impress everyone and make myself a good place here. But then it all went to Oblivion in a gift basket." She stared out of the grand, beautiful window in the Archmage quarters.

"Ancano, the Thalmor 'advisor', betrayed us. Tried to gain control over the artefact and I think... I think it drove him insane. There was nothing but lust for power left in him at the end. He didn't even notice how he was destroying the world, just that he had more and more power.

"Savos, our Archmage, tried to stop him, but Ancano just... just blew him apart, right in front of my eyes, like he was nothing. Mirabelle was grievously injured, but still stayed behind and fought to the death to give the others a chance to escape. They both sacrificed _everything_ to save us. And I, the legendary demi-god with the soul of a dragon, could do _nothing_ to stop it. All the Shouts, all the magic I learned, and in the end, it was worthless. I just stood there, a step behind the Archmage as he was killed right in front of me. I left to get the staff that could neutralize the orb's magic, fighting my way through Labyrinthian, while Mirabelle covered everyone's escape with her life. I couldn't even say goodbye.

"What good is power, if it doesn't save the ones you care for?"

She fiddled with the hem of the old robes. _The late Archmage's robes_ , Bishop suddenly realized. ' _Dammit!_ ' he swore to himself. ' _She wears the robes of the man whose death she blames herself for._ '

"Wearing those robes is... was... my penance. I lost this world an Archmage, so I wanted to give it another one and be worthy of his legacy."

Bishop couldn't stand it any longer. "Hildur, ... _sweetheart_ , how could you have 'lost' him? You were not the reason he was killed. You did not kill him, this... this Ancano did."

"I was the one who pulled that amulet off the wall in Saarthal, revealed the hidden passage that led to the orb. I started the chain of events that could not be stopped. The only reason I was not judged, _executed_ by the Psijics Order for re-discovering the Eye of Magnus, was that I didn't know what I've done. Not until it was too late."

Bishop could hear the tears in her voice and was briefly lost. He had no idea what to do with the crying woman. Then he shook his head. It was obvious what she needed, what any crying woman needed and he was man enough to offer it.

He took her fully in his arms. And let her cry.

"Shh, just let it all out, love," he whispered as he held her close, his hand caressing the leather of the mask's hood. But he knew she felt it, knew she took comfort in it, for her arms lifted and entangled themselves in the leathers at his back as she gripped and held him back, hard.

"You didn't know. You couldn't have known how this will all end. You did everything you could to stop it, prevent it. No one blames you for what happened. No one blames you for starting it, or for how it ended." He continued to whisper to her, even as he felt her shake her head, hidden in the crook of his neck.

She simply clutched him tighter and allowed herself to mourn.

* * *

It was a while before either of them felt like moving. Even then, Bishop felt almost lost when she pulled herself away from his arms.

The sky outside was already dark, and the constant hum from the Hall below them that he only now became aware of, quieted.

They took their bath in turn, just as luxurious as she promised. When Bishop came out of the bathing area, Hildur already doused all but one of the candles and stood near the display case that now held the old Archmage's robes.

He silently walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. It was a testament to their familiarity with each other when she didn't even flinch or show any surprise.

"Promise me you won't blame yourself anymore, Hildur," he whispered in her ear.

"I'll try," she whispered back softly.

He smiled and placed a small kiss on her temple. Or, better said, at the edge of her mask.

It didn't matter if his lips only met metal. She felt the intent behind it anyway.

She shook a little in his arms, and he worried that he overstepped his bounds, or that she started to cry again, but then he realized she was softly, if a bit sadly, laughing. "Hah, I bet Hevnoorak is getting more action in death than he ever got in his life."

Bishop couldn't help his startled laugh. Then he shook his head, "I'm glad you feel better, Ladyship. You must be, to tease me like this."

He let go of her with a fond smile and went to lay down in the huge, comfortable bed fit for a king. He relaxed into the plush mattress with a small groan of relief, while Hildur extinguished the last candle and made her way to bed by memory.

Despite the large window, the room was almost pitch black, mostly due to yet another raging blizzard outside of the College walls. But here, everything was quiet.

Bishop thought that he could easily get used to this. Warm, comfortable bed, Karnwyr curled up by his legs, and an amazing, strong woman making her way to join him.

Even though he still hasn't seen her face, it somehow didn't matter to him so much anymore. So long as he could enjoy her company, it was enough.

Then, to his great shock, he heard a metallic clang from the direction of the bedside table.

"Hildur?"

She did not reply but crawled under the covers next to him.

Bishop couldn't help it, he reached out towards her. Touched her face. "Did you just take your mask off for me?" He knew his voice turned gentle and soft, but he didn't fight it, didn't _want to_ fight it. "Does it mean I get a kiss now?"

"You haven't won yet, ranger-danger. The mask is off but you can't see my face," she whispered mischievously.

Bishop just laughed and pulled her to him, "Come here, you little cheater!"

And then he knew. Her lips tasted as sweet as her laughter.

* * *

It was a shame that the wench woke up before him. Really.

Bishop wanted to catch her with her mask down and finally claim victory. But her sweet kisses and warm embrace soothed him into a deep sleep, from which he woke to the sight of metal, unfortunately.

At least the breakfast was great.

"I can feel your smug grin, you know," he grumbled as they took the other staircase down. "One of these days, I'm going to get that mask off you. Just wait and see."

She did not respond with words, but her step had extra spring in it.

And her hips swayed a lot more.

' _Mmmm, I could get used to this._ ' The female robes made a lot of difference in her overall appearance. She might have still been covered head to toe in heavy fur-lined robes, including Dragonscale gauntlets and boots, but the robes _fit_ her better. Deliciously so.

Or maybe he was just that starved. That was possible too. Damned tease.

' _Perhaps I could tease her back_ ,' he thought with an evil grin.

"You do realize that walking behind you just gives me more ideas of what I'd like to do to you, right?"

His illustrious Ladyship almost missed a step and only caught herself at the last moment. Then she straightened "Do what? You want to _spar_?" she asked, faux-innocently.

"Heh, 'spar' she says. We can spar on my bedroll, woman. I'd love to have you under me, writhing, panting..."

"Aaand you're sleeping alone tonight. I'm leaving you for Karnwyr, he can warm my bed."

Bishop just laughed, knowing by now that she was both embarrassed _and_ pleased. "You tease."

"You started it, ranger-danger."

That might have been what she said, but if she wiggled her ass any harder, Bishop was going to have an embarrassing episode of his own.

"Anyway, I still need to go to the Arcanaeum, then say my goodbyes to Master Tolfdir and give him my modified Soul-link Rune Spell. I hope you enjoyed the luxuries because we will start our journey to Solitude later today."

Bishop only shrugged his shoulders. While pleasant, he was more of an outdoors kinda guy anyway. Perhaps not during a blizzard, but as long as he had his Ladyship to keep him warm...

"What do you need from the Mage Library anyway?"

"Oh, I don't need anything," she replied with a voice so full of mischief that he started grinning himself in reflex. "I just have _a little something_ for the Arcanist."

She walked into the book-filled room as if she owned it. The rest of the mages must have known her well enough already, for most heads lifted to surreptitiously watch as she approached the cranky looking Orsimer.

"Hey, Master Urag, do you want an Elder Scroll?"

* * *

Bishop was still laughing when they met Tolfdir in the courtyard sometime later that day.

The old man just shook his head at them. "Please be more gentle with our Arcanist, Archmage," he scolded gently. "He is old and surprises of this magnitude don't do him any good."

"To the contrary, Master Tolfdir," she grinned behind her mask. "I don't believe I've ever seen Master Urag so... animated."

The wizard laughed. "Just watch it that he doesn't get so animated that we have to re-animate him."

"Oooh, Master Tolfdir, your puns are simply drop-dead gorgeous."

Bishop just groaned and face-palmed. Amazing, what he was willing to put up with for love.

He froze for a second. ' _Love_ '? He looked back at Hildur. Could he actually be in love with her?

It sure seemed that way.

What started as a whim, born of boredom and curiosity about the weird stranger quickly became something more. Something he didn't expect.

He tried to imagine life without her... and he couldn't. He- he didn't want to go back to the way things were before. Just him and Karnwyr against the world. Not when he now knew what it was like to travel with someone he could trust, someone who understood him.

Life without her jokes, and horrible little songs, dancing and laughter, without her warm embraces and companionable silences, life without _her_ suddenly seemed empty and desolate.

He even got to know new people. People who didn't see him merely as a means to an end, but actually treated him as a person for once, if only by his association with their boss.

He didn't want to give it up. Whatever this thing between them was, it was worth fighting for.

His only hope now was that she felt the same.

Bishop watched her as she almost imperceptibly, unconsciously turned towards him, to see his reaction to her jokes and smiled.

Perhaps it was not as impossible as he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the old wizard's chuckles. Then the Mage responded, "Anyway, I have received news that another group of Anomalies was spotted down in Falkreath. It would be in the best interest of the College to ensure no innocents were harmed by them."

"Also," he added sheepishly, "Before you leave, could you please help me, my dear? I seem to have misplaced my alembic again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: One of the main things that... bother me about the romance between the DB and Bishop is the lack of social connections Bishop has. Being the 'lone wolf' archetype is one thing, but Bishop literally has no connections other than you and that's just not healthy. This is my attempt to modify it a little bit. For him to open up to more than just the DB who, while not exactly a social butterfly, at least has friends and allies and companions and acquaintances.
> 
> A lone wolf might be a sexy archetype, but I'll replace him with a healthy wolf any day. After all, wolves are social animals.
> 
> Also, why does everyone always mourn Kodlak, but no one ever mentions Savos? They are both the same, basically (man in power who made a mistake when young, dies to protect you/his people and move the plot along) yet no one ever mentions him after you find him in that courtyard. I liked Savos and honestly, his death hit me harder than the death of a companion who doesn't fight anymore but considers it an honor to die in battle. At least Kodladk got to go to Sovngarde as he wished. Yet everyone forgot about Savos as soon as he died...


	9. Chapter 9

**Back in Windhelm**

" _Two_ _ **hundred**_ _bottles of wine?!_ "

Quintus smirked, "You're the one who brought me a barrel-full of Jazbay when it's only a secondary ingredient, Dragonborn. I only needed several handfuls to make the test bottles. Once I had them, however, I thought 'Why not?' and prepared some more."

"' _Some more',_ he says. Quintus, half the Inns of Skyrim don't have that much booze in stock! All types of booze combined!"

The imperial man's smirk only got wider. "Then I believe you'll have to try very hard to sell it all, Dragonborn."

"Ooh, you drive a hard bargain, my friend," Hildur intoned. "I shall try my best. You do realize that I will probably give most of these away for free as testers, though. Right?"

"I know, I know." He replied consolingly. "Just be careful, these pack quite the punch!"

"What do you mean?"

The alchemist was getting excited. "It's incredible! Some of the older grapes were so saturated with magic, that it made the wine almost twice as potent in its magical effects as I expected. Please try to remember where you gathered them and if possible, and gather some more of them for me if you could. I'd love to run some tests!"

Bishop suddenly remembered Hildur's 'stasis and preservation spells' and discreetly coughed into his hand.

Hildur fidgeted. "Err... I'll try. Might take a while for them to... grow back, though."

"I know, my friend. Just keep it in mind, would you?"

"Sure. By the way, do you have any of the empty vials ready?"

' _Empty vials_?' Bishop glanced at her. Just what is she planning now?

"Ah, yes, I cleaned and disinfected them just this morning, Dragonborn. Here you go!" With that, he reached under the counter and pulled out a crate full of small glass bottles.

"Thank you! I'll go fill them right away." She picked the heavy crate as if it weighed nothing and turned to Bishop. "Hey, Bish, do you mind waiting here for me? I just need to go brew some potions, shouldn't take me more than an hour or two."

"Sure, Ladyship. I'll even help you pack your wine in the meantime. Wouldn't want you to miss a bottle, now would we?" he added mischievously.

"Ha! Just don't drink it all, ranger. Leave some for the Jarls!"

He snorted and shooed her out the door. Then he turned towards the alchemist. "So, where's the famous wine?"

As they were packing it, probably to be ported right to that mysterious magical place where she stored all her things, Bishop couldn't help but wonder, "What is she brewing anyway? And why couldn't she do it here?"

The imperial lifted his head in surprise and answered, "Oh. She's just brewing some frost resistance tonics for the Dunmeri and Argonians. Windhelm can be very cold and our neighbours aren't really meant to live in these temperatures."

Bishop paused. "Doesn't it... take away from your own business?"

"Not really. They couldn't have afforded to buy any tonics on their own. If the Dragonborn wants to brew them in her spare time, with her own ingredients and then hand them out for free? That is her business. I only provided the glasswork and clean it up whenever Aval or Niranye bring them back."

He got back to packing the bottles. "Huh. That is still more generous than most merchants I know. You even give some of your own stuff away for free?"

Quintus only offered a small, sad smile. "I might be human, but I am treated barely any better than the 'Greyskins' and the 'Boots'. Not to mention what our Altmer friends have to put up with just to live here." He shook his head. "Windhelm is a cruel and harsh place, one that not many can survive. We have to help each other if we want to make it here. Besides, it was her idea in the first place."

"Huh. Surprising. She doesn't seem like such a bleeding-heart." Bishop shook his head. "She's always more concerned with this wine of hers than what 'the poor people' might feel like." Just look at the verbal gutting she gave to that mageling, or the way she all but ran away from that damned bard.

Quintus paused and gave him an inscrutable look. "Is she? What a cruel world we must live in, where one has to wear so many masks. I would advise you to look at what she does, not what she says."

Bishop opened his mouth to protest because he definitely considered her actions first, but paused.

'... _smaller businesses like Evette's... will have problems._ '

'... _for you, some more Frost Salts._ '

' _You have given us hope, returned what was stolen from us and forced our employers to pay us fair wages._ '

' _Before you leave, could you please help me, my dear? I seem to have misplaced my alembic_ again.'

"Oh."

The alchemist calmly continued. "She set up the whole... system, you could say. Asked me for the glass, gathered the ingredients and uses the alembic at the Palace so as not to block me from brewing my own potions. Aval, Niranye and I simply bring the potions to Revyn Sadri and Scouts-Many-Marshes who distribute them where they are most needed and those in question then bring us the empty vials back."

Quintus pulled out another empty crate to be filled with wine. "To be honest, I think it actually increasedall our sales. There is a lot more traffic from the Grey Quarter up here now, and the Argonians have more money to spend as well. While they are already here, they usually go and look through our wares, and sometimes even buy something. At least this way, not _all_ the money goes to Torbjorn Shatter-Shield or the East Empire Company. And all it took was some of her time, purple mountain flowers and some snowberries."

' _~Snowberries, snowberries, stop the frost from biting ears...~_ '

Did she-? _Seriously?!_ The whole way to Winterhold, the whole way back, she's been gathering the small red berries and plucked every single flower along the way. That's why it took them so long to get back when, with their stamina, they could have made the trip in one day. It was definitely more than 'just a bit of her time'! It was _days_.

He didn't know what possessed him, but he couldn't stop his bitter words from spilling out, "If these people can't handle life, they should just die already and be done with it! What good does coddling them do? They think they have it bad, with their cosy little houses and assemblages? I've endured _much worse_ as a child and survived with nothing more than branches to keep me warm."

The alchemist kept staring at him. "What a cruel world we must live in, where one has to wear so many masks, even from oneself." He shook his head. "Your lady wasn't always as rich and powerful as she is now. First time I saw her, she was a dirty vagabond with nary a copper in her purse. Yet even then, she helped those worse off than her. Tell me, ranger, if you saw her the way I did when we first met; poor, ill-equipped and on the edge of starvation, what would you have done? Would you have abandoned her to her fate?"

"I-" There was a moment of silence. Bishop didn't, couldn't meet the alchemist's eyes.

Quintus only nodded and turned back towards the wine. After a moment, Bishop joined in but didn't speak.

Maybe the man had a point. Besides, didn't he and Hildur meet when she saved Karnwyr?

For a second, he imagined what he would have done in her stead. What anyone else would have done in her stead. An image of Karnwyr, bleeding to death in some dark, dank pit flashed in his mind. He clutched the bottle in his hands so hard it almost broke.

Maybe it was time to re-evaluate some things in his life. If he wanted to stay in Hildur's life and keep her high regard of him, he probably needed to change his opinions. Once again.

But then, he has already done it once. Giving up on bandit life and all the people he has ever known was a much harder decision, yet it was the best one he had ever made. Changing his world-view a second time wouldn't be nearly as hard.

Not when he already had someone waiting for him on the other side.

* * *

**Falkreath, Two weeks later**

"Hold up. Now that we're in Falkreath, I need to tell you about something."

"Sure. What is it?"

"There's... someone you'd rather not meet. His name's Thorn and he's nothing but a vicious, son of a bitch that needs to be put down like the rabid dog he is. Let's just say he'll take you by force, if he can." He crossed his arms over his chest and couldn't help but feel... something like second-hand guilt. For so much _knowing_ the bastard. "Every time I hear his name mentioned it comes with another sad story of a wench being raped. Look, I was a bandit too, but he is something else. I never liked him. We were pretty much on opposite sides." He shrugged his shoulders. "In fact, he still wants me dead."

There was a moment of silence from her. Then came a hesitant question, "...You were a bandit?"

Bishop mentally rewound their discussion and realized just what he had said. ' _Shit_!' That's what he got for being too open. He was getting way too relaxed around her! There he went and blabbed about his sordid past to the Holy Saint of All Heroes of Tamriel. Damn, damn, _damn!_ "What? No, forget I said that!"

But the damage was done, he knew.

He sighed. "I- Can we _not_ talk about it?"

She stood there and watched him for a moment. Then her head cocked to the side in contemplation.

At times like these, Bishop really hated that mask. He had no idea what she was thinking about.

She eventually shrugged nonchalantly, "Sure."

Bishop released the breath he was unconsciously holding. Crisis averted. For the time being at least. But he didn't doubt for a second that the topic will come up again. How could it not? This sort of revelation wasn't something people just ignored.

They bought some provisions at the Inn - thankfully without being interrupted by horny wenches, star-struck bards or sleazy mages - and went to deal with the magical weirdness.

He didn't entirely know how to feel about that; his life until now kept him in a safe distance from anything too magical and aside from some necromancers and summoned creatures, he never had much contact with magic as such. But, he supposed dating the bloody Archmage meant he'll have to get used to it now.

The anomalies were pretty easy to deal with, actually. Well, easy when Hildur whipped up a staff and somehow magically made everything well. Then the only thing there was left was to kill the floating balls of light. Not too bad.

It even brought them close to Thorn's cave. Half an hour of a leisurely walk up the hill, really.

Bishop felt shivers run down his spine. His last meeting with Thorn was... He didn't like to think about it. For a moment there he hesitated, wondering if he should have brought Hildur here at all.

What if Thorn overpowered them? What if he overpowered Hildur?

He clutched his bow tighter.

The inside of the cave was even worse. Worse than most bandit hideouts too. Every other room or cage they opened, each new body they found, his unease grew.

Just before they entered the final room, he couldn't take it anymore. "Hildur, wait!"

She turned towards him. "What is it?"

"I- Maybe we shouldn't have come. Maybe we should just turn around and-"

"And what, walk away? Not a chance. I've seen the bodies, Bishop. This bastard deserves to die."

"It's not about him, it's about you!" He wanted to shake her, really. Didn't she see how dangerous this was?!

She watched him for a moment, then sighed and dispelled her conjured blade. "Have you ever fought a Draugr Deathlord?"

"What? No. No, I haven't. I don't think many people still alive have. What does that have to do with Thorn?"

"I fought about thirty of them at Skuldafn. Eight or ten at the same time at one point. While being besieged by dragons from above. All the Draugr could Shout, and did, while they also attacked with master-crafted Ebony weapons."

Bishop just stared at her.

"And then I killed them all, all their underlings, the casters and a Dragon Priest, and then I went to Sovngarde and killed Alduin the World-Eater himself." When Bishop still didn't say a word, she just shrugged, "Yeah, I think a couple bandits won't be a problem."

"That's... Well..."

She shook her head. "I know you want to protect me, and I appreciate it, Bishop. But please don't ever forget that I'm a demi-god with a dragon soul. It does neither of us any good."

Bishop needed a moment to process it. "You really did all that?" At her nod, he only clenched his fists. "Are you insane?! You could have died!"

"But I didn't." Her voice was cold, colder than he'd ever heard. "And now Alduin is dead and the dragons mostly stopped challenging me."

"...Still. Humans are different from Dragons. If you think he's not going to cheat, you're dead wrong."

"Don't worry about it. I have so many enchantments on me that even if he managed to hit me, it wouldn't do much harm." Then she paused for a moment and looked at him, "Hmm, but you don't. That could be a problem."

There was a moment of silence between them while Bishop tried to figure out how and when the conversation got away from him.

"Come with me, Bish. I think it's time we got you some better equipment."

She held out her hand.

He simply stared at her.

She coughed awkwardly and explained. "We could go to the Soul Forge. I can either craft you something, or maybe we can pick something from what I already have prepared."

After a moment, he just shook his head and took her hand.

The magic that washed over him was cold and startlingly bright. When he could see again, he realized they were no longer on Nirn. The moving blue ceiling above their heads was making him nauseous and oddly reminded him of a soul gem. Strange portals and glowing orbs of light dotted the 'room' they found themselves in. And... was that a Dremora?!

"Welcome to the Soul Forge, Bishop," she smiled under the mask, and led him further in, to some chests. "I think I had... Ah!"

She pulled out some amulets. "So, which one would you like? This one allows you to breathe underwater and makes you more resistant to poison. I wore it before I found Hevnoorak. And this one protects against magic in general and makes you more resistant to disease. We could combine it with these rings to give you more overall protection."

He stared down at the jewellery in his hands. "You do realize people would sell their houses to have _one_ of these, right?"

She snorted. "Probably, yes. But I don't really need another house, so I kept these as mementoes. You can have them if you'd like."

"Sometimes you scare me, Princess."

"Good," she nodded calmly, "That means you understand who and what I am and are less likely to underestimate me. Oh, and while we're here, let's get you a better weapon..."

Bishop only shook his head with a fond smile and watched her bring out chest after chest filled with weapons fit for Jarls.

* * *

They were back in front of the last room of Thorn's little hideout and thankfully it seemed no one has noticed the string of dead bodies they left in their wake yet.

Bishop tested the weight of his new Dragonbone Bow, checked his quiver full of Ebony arrows and patted down the masterfully enchanted amulet and ring he now wore. ' _I'm a walking treasure house_ ,' he thought to himself with a small smile. ' _If they manage to kill me, they'll be set for life. But- only_ _ **if**_ _they manage to kill me._ ' Which somehow seemed really unlikely now.

Even Hildur carried new weapons, thin Dragonbone swords she called 'Akaviri Katanas'. He knew she picked them mostly to reassure him - that she now had a visible, powerful weapon that didn't require time or magic to cast just to 'train her Conjuration'.

Honestly, Bishop appreciated that she was willing to listen to him. His nerves were calm once again. He was even looking forward to facing Thorn now. With a Dragoness at his side and equipment that could buy you a castle, the bandits didn't stand a chance.

"Well, well. Look who's decided to show his face, boys! It seems you come bearing a gift. A peace offering perhaps? Did you think bringing me a wench would make me accept you back? Did you think such a pitiful gift would stop me from killing you where you stand? You never could face me, boy, and you still can't."

Bishop only smiled. "And I don't have to. My girlfriend will tear you to pieces."

Thorn opened his mouth to spew some more bile, but Hildur only chuckled and took a deep breath.

" **YOL-TOOR-SHUUL**!"

Great streams of flame consumed his vision. Then the screams came. Screams and swinging of her blade. Most of the bandits were dead before Bishop's vision cleared, the rest quickly picked off by his arrows and Karnwyr's bites.

By some miracle, Thorn managed to avoid the worst of the initial attack. The bandit watched with horrified eyes as his 'most powerful companions' were turned to piles of ash or diced into itty-bitty pieces while Bishop and his woman didn't even break a sweat.

He threw one last glare at Bishop, turned and fled down the corridor to the next room and the exit.

Bishop aimer his bow, but Hildur's hand on his chest stopped him.

"Watch this," she whispered to him, then started _singing_.

" _~Brave sir bandit ran away, bravely ran away, away!  
_ _When danger reared its ugly head,  
_ _He bravely turned his tail and fled!  
_ _Yes, brave sir bandit turned about,  
_ _And gallantly he chickened out.  
_ _Bravely taking to his feet,  
_ _He beat a very brave retreat,  
_ _Bravest of the brave, sir bandit!~_ "

Bishop couldn't help it, he started laughing. At the sound, Thorn barrelled back into the room with a scream of wordless rage. He ran straight for Hildur.

Hildur impaled him on her Dragonbone sword, then cut off his head with a single stroke.

"Aah, works every time. _Nords_ ," she shook her head.

Bishop just laughed harder.

Once he could breathe again, he wiped his eyes. "Ladyship, I take back everything bad I ever said about your songs. That was _perfect_!"

Still smiling, he grabbed the unresisting woman, pulled her into his arms and jokingly kissed the mask right on the mouth.

That was when he realized that he could feel lips under his own, not metal.

He pulled back, startled. Equally startled eyes met his own through the mask's eye-slits. He grinned. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with this, Ladyship."

"No, you won't!"

"Yes, I will! Looks like Hevnoorak doesn't consider me to be poison, so who am I to argue?"

Hildur squirmed in his arms and made to withdraw, "Bishop!"

His voice - calm but uncertain - stopped her. "Hildur."

When he said nothing else, she slowly turned back towards him.

"Do you really not want me to kiss you? If so, then just say the word, and I will stop. I'm not Thorn, I'd never force you into something you didn't want."

"Of course not!" her hands tightened on his armour. "I know you'd never-!"

"Then why do you draw back every time I try to get close?" It was something he noticed a while ago. "I admit, I like the chase, but... I guess sometimes I need to know that you really want this. Want _me_."

"I do! I really do, please believe me! It's just... I just..." She hid her masked face in his chest. "No one has ever really been interested in, well, in _me_. Those that were, were not really the type that I'd consider. So I... I never-"

Aah. Now he understood. With a smile, he hugged her tighter, promising to himself that he wouldn't rush her.

They had time.

"It's alright. I can wait. As long as you need, you know that." An idea entered into his mind. "Actually, why don't we... change things a bit? Make it more interesting?"

"What do you mean?" Her voice was full of suspicion. Smart girl.

"Every time I want to kiss you, I will let you know. Then _you_ can kiss _me._ That way, we can both be sure that's what we want. Sounds good, Ladyship?"

She fiddled with the hem of his armour, while he watched her, amused. Then, quick as lightning, she gave him a peck on the lips and wiggled herself out of his arms.

Bishop only grinned. "That all you can do, Ladyship?"

She cleared her throat and pointed at the room around them, "Decapitated bandits do not make for a romantic backdrop, you know."

He laughed at her openly. As if either of them was fooled. "Certainly, Ladyship. Lead the way outside to more romantic sights, Ladyship."

He could feel her eyes roll.

As soon as they got outside, Bishop took a deep breath. The air was crisp, clean and he felt as if something shifted in the world. Another piece of his sordid past fell away, bringing with it a sense of peace he never knew before.

'Side-quests' dealt with, they turned their eyes towards Solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Song: 'Tale of Sir Robin' from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The best mockery and greatest 'f*ck you' song I've ever heard! :D watch?v=jYFefppqEtE&t=1s


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I added a cover. You can find it in the first chapter :)

Of course they made a detour.

Bishop washed Chaurus gunk of his armour and threw a rueful glance at the clearly visible Solitude docks. _On the other side of the river_.

"Karnwyr's amazing, Ladyship, but he doesn't like swimming that much. Neither do I, for that matter. Have mercy on your old wolves. Let's go around." He tried to beg for both their sakes. His and Karnwyr's, that is. His Ladyship The Mightiest of All would of course have no trouble swimming across.

Seriously, though. They already lost about a week by going through Morthal to offer the wine to one of the few Jarls who doesn't mind magic. And then they crossed the Evil Swamp of Doom. So what's a day more?

She gave him an evil smirk. "I have a better idea."

With that, she cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted (non-magically, thankfully) across the water. " _ **Hey, boat-man! Come get us with your boat!**_ "

Bishop could see several people at the docks turn towards them, then turn away in the next moment.

" _ **It's not one of my stops!**_ " The boat-man shouted back.

Bishop wiped the last of the bile and poison off and stood up. "Why do I get the feeling this is not the first time this happened?" he asked sardonically.

Hildur only laughed. "Because it's not." Then she turned back towards the docs. " _ **I'll pay you double!**_ "

" _ **...I'll be right there~!**_ "

"Yeah, definitely not the first time."

"Come on, Bishop, I got us a ride! Now my Princess won't have to wade through the water, _and_ we won't have to lose any more time!"

"' _Wade_ ,' she says," he mock-complained. "The water's deep enough that a galleon could sink and have no bits sticking out, I'll have you know."

"I know," she wiggled, self-satisfied. "I cleared some of them out."

At his incredulous look, she added, "The water-breathing enchantment is amazing, you should try it sometimes now that you have one on you. And, aside from all the cargo they carried, the ships are an excellent source of Nordic Barnacles and Slaughterfish Eggs."

Bishop chuckled and shook his head ruefully, "Slaughterfish, too, I presume."

"Yeah. But no worries. One of these days I'll figure out how to fight underwater and then I'll have all the Slaughterfish Scales I could ever need."

He only shook his head fondly. "And until then? Do I have to worry about _fish_ outperforming me and getting a bite of you before I could?"

"No, I- Wait, what?"

"You heard me," he grinned.

His Ladyship fidgeted. "There's no... biting involved in _that._ ...Is there?"

His grin grew wider, "Only if you ask nicely."

Hildur huffed. "You're impossible!"

"You love it," he countered with a smile.

Bishop turned to watch the approaching boat and ferryman, happy with his minor victory. Then his Ladyship turned around and, quicker than he could perceive, planted a delicate kiss right on his lips. He blinked.

His lips spread into a slow, satisfied smile. "Do my senses deceive me? Did my Ladyship just kiss me, of her own volition?"

She wiggled in place and muttered "Yeah, so what? Don't make a fuss over a little kiss."

"I would _never_ , your Ladyship." He placed a hand on her waist and pulled her closer. "I simply can't help but note that we've been trading 'little kisses' for a while, now."

"...And?"

"And it would be much more pleasant and comfortable to share them without an ancient dragon priest between us. What do you say?"

She stared across the water for a moment. Then she lay her head on his shoulder and turned her mischievous eyes towards him. "Soon."

His hand tightened on her waist in surprise. Then he relaxed and kissed the edge of the mask. "I'm looking forward to it, then."

'Don't push her, don't push her, just don't push her,' he repeated to himself. And then his mouth opened and he heard himself ask, "But seriously, why not now? You know I would never... judge you for what you look like, right? Because I wouldn't."

"Aww, you're so cute!"

"' _Cute_ '?! Ladyship, sometimes I really don't know how your mind works. There's _nothing_ cute about me, you hear me?"

"Cuteness personified."

Bishop only spluttered in horrified amazement.

"You honestly have nothing to be worried about there, Bishop. It's just... a matter of preference."

He shook his head. "You'd _prefer_ not to show your face, even when you find it damned uncomfortable to sleep in a metal mask?"

Her smirk got across in its full strength through her voice. "I'd prefer to see your jaw hit the floor when the mask finally comes off, my ranger." She shrugged. "And for that, I'm going to need a bath, a mirror, and a beautiful, tailored dress."

"So- you don't take your mask off for _vanity's sake_?!"

She simply laughed at him. "I told you you should never challenge a dragon, Bishop!"

He groaned.

She snuggled closer to his side, self-satisfied. "Don't worry, I have a nice, big house in Solitude, with a full wardrobe and everything I could possibly need. Prepare to be dazzled."

He squeezed her tighter to his side. As the grinning ferryman pulled to the shore near them, he couldn't help but be charmed and pleased anyway.

But he still couldn't help but have the last word. "Better make it good, then, Ladyship. I'm not an easy man to impress."

Her indignant eyes told him she took it as an additional challenge.

' _Double-dare, sweetheart. Show me what you can do._ '

* * *

"Ooh, what are such beautiful tits doing here so late at night, all alone?" The drunken pirate slurred.

The Dragonborn took a breath, then paused. Looked down at her fur-lined-robes covered 'tits', the bright day around them and a grinning Bishop with Karnwyr at his side.

Then she shook her head, "Man, I don't know what you're drinking but I want some."

"Rum, my beautiful. The best rum in the world!" He tried to take another swig from his bottle. "Damn, that was my last bottle!"

Both Bishop and Hildur looked at the crate full of rum next to him. Half of the bottles were still full.

Bishop leaned in and whispered conspiratorily, "You distract him, I steal his rum?"

"Deal!" She grinned, "Just imagine, we'll be doing him a service. The man had too much already."

"Hey, what are you two lovely lasses whispering about there? Join me in my cabin, beauties, and you can whisper in my ear alll niiight looong~."

Bishop snorted. "You think he means you and me, Ladyship? Or me and Karnwyr?"

She chuckled. "I'm betting Karnwyr and that tree behind me."

"Oh, shit, you're right!"

"Just imagine, beautiful. You can have the world-famous Captain Jack in his world-famous ship all to yourself. All you have to do, all you have to do, hic, is help him find that ship!"

They threw a glance down to the pier and the fancy-looking ship docked at the end. The man next to them obviously couldn't see it, or reach it, or both.

Then exchanged mischievous glances. That rum was as good as theirs!

His Ladyship turned back towards the stairs they have just come up. "Come on. I'll lead you to your boat."

* * *

"Let me show you the size of my mast, milady!"

"Mast? More like an anchor, man. Your rum pulled it alll the way down to the bottom of the ocean."

"Hey! I'll have you know, I am both a captain _and_ a lover!"

Bishop snorted. "The only thing you'll be 'loving' is your bottle tonight."

* * *

"Come, Dragonborn! Let's sail away!"

"There's not enough wind in your sails, buddy."

* * *

"Wow! You look like you can handle a sword!"

"You have no idea, Jackie. She can do it one, two-handed _and_ magically!"

* * *

"Let's get drunk!"

"Drunker? I think he means drunker." He gave her a conspirational wink. "Let's do that."

She, honest to Gods, _giggled_.

* * *

"Sorry, Toots, I'm afraid I can't get any closer." He belched loudly. "Cursed, you see?"

They stood about a minute of leisurely walk from the ship.

 _Now_ the man decided to inform them that he couldn't even board his own ship?

Looked like his Ladyship wasn't any more amused than he was. Then she swayed from side to side and Bishop smelled mischief brewing.

She leaned in and hinted in a sickly sweet voice, "Then how about I help you out? See, I have this Shout, it's called Unrelenting Force. I could Shout at you and catapult you in the direction of your ship. Who knows? It might break your curse, but even if not, you'd still be closer than you are now..."

At the word 'catapult', the drunken pirate mysteriously sobered up. "That won't be necessary, thank you!" He cleared his throat, "You have been most helpful, my lady, but I fear I must deal with my cursed fate myself."

She shrugged her shoulders, grinned under the mask, and said, "As you wish. Good luck with your curse then, and thanks for the drink!"

"You're welcome," he muttered, confused, and stared down at his empty bottle in bafflement, probably wondering when exactly he offered her a drink.

Bishop smothered a snort and took great care not to clink as they walked away.

* * *

Bishop vaguely heard the door open and close. Oh, that must be his Ladyship, back from her 'diplomacy' mission at the Blue Palace.

To 'give the fair Jarl Elisif a gift of her own make as a sign of continued appreciation from their Thane', meaning she probably handed out several bottles of her wine and made it seem like she was doing the Jarl a favour.

The same thing she did to the last two Jarls, from Morthal and Falkreath.

The only one to see through the ruse was that wise-woman in Morthal - ironically the only one who appreciated the magic-booster in any way, and was glad to try the wine out.

Bishop calmly took another swig from the bottle of rum and let himself relax in the plush, comfortable chair in the upper story of his Ladyship's palace.

Because this place was a bloody palace. It had an upper floor and a lower floor and everything. All of it filled to the brim with priceless artefacts, armour and weapons, precious stones and lots and lots of money.

' _Like the lair of a Dragon.'_

Shit, Ladyship sure was rich. Bishop was dating a rich noblewoman.

A rich noblewoman with a penchant for wearing male robes, taking shortcuts through deadly swamps, and singing as she chopped of bandit's heads.

Eh, all in all, not too bad. He guessed he could forgive the money and houses and titles.

"You started without me?!" His Ladyship glared down at the bottle in his hands, dismayed. "Come on! I helped you with the stealing, I get to drink too!"

Bishop grinned into the bottle. "I did you a service, Ladyship! The pirate's rum is _awful_!"

"Oooh, no, no! No throwing my words back into my face, Bishop, that's not fair. Only I'm allowed to do that!"

He laughed drunkenly. "How's _that_ fair? And who said that?"

" _I_ did and you know women are always right."

He laughed, knowing perfectly well she wasn't serious. "Don't pout, Princess, it doesn't make Hevnoraak any prettier in his ancient age. Besides," he grinned and reached behind him into the small hidden satchel, "I saved you a bottle or two!"

He handed his rightfully gained loot over to his Ladyship and took another swig from the bottle.

She laughed and opened it to take the first gulp.

The day went progressively blurrier from there.

* * *

He awoke to pain. Pure, unadulterated _pain_.

Bishop groaned and immediately regretted it as it made his head pound even worse.

Rum hangover. Horrible. ' _Never again_ ', he promised himself.

He washed his face, took a drink from the conveniently placed tankard of cool water at the bedside and made his way downstairs.

His Ladyship was sitting in a chair next to the main door, masked head in hands.

"Morning," he grumbled and went to sit next to her and the plates of food, probably prepared by the amused Housecarl that made her excuses yesterday and left them to their drinking. Smart woman, that one, not to join in despite their invitations.

The only reply to his greeting was a small unhappy grunt.

He chuckled lowly so as to not irritate either of them. "What? Did Hevnoraak not save you from alcohol poisoning? Or at least the hangover? Serious oversight from the Dragon Priests, really."

Hildur turned suspiciously stiff. "You don't remember?"

"What? What happened? Yesterday is a bit of a blur, Ladyship," he admitted.

Her next words shocked him and almost made him drop his fork. "I took off my mask."

"No, you didn't!"

"I most certainly did!" Her raised voice made them both wince, so she continued much more calmly, "I prepared and everything. Even added a bit of cream from Angeline. You seriously don't remember?"

He stared down at his eggs and tried his hardest to remember. There was something... something very, very blurry. Shit. She _did_ take off her mask. "I... think you're blonde?"

She only scoffed and huddled into herself, obviously pouting under the metal.

"You could take your mask off now?" He hesitantly offered, but that only made things worse.

"When I'm hungover and clammy and disgusting? Oblivion, no!" She grumbled even harder. "You'll just have to wait for a better chance."

"Aww, come on! It's totally not fair! Besides, why would you take your mask off _when I was drunk_ , of all the time? Why now?"

"Well, Hevnoraak _does_ protect against alcohol poisoning. That means drunkenness too. I could drink a barrel's worth of rum and not get drunk with the mask ok. So I took it off."

Wait a moment. "What about Valtheim Towers? You want to tell me you were sober back then?" Then he remembered what else happened while they were there. "You stole my armour to sleep in while _sober_?"

Suspicious silence.

"You _jumped from that height while sober_?"

"I always jump from the towers into the river, Bishop, it was nothing special and nothing to do with any potential tipsiness!" She defended herself.

He only groaned. But honestly, the mask probably didn't work the way she thought. She had been drunk, or at least tipsy, he was sure of it.

"So why did you put the mask back on, now, in the morning?"

She shrugged, then clutched at her head again. "I thought it would help with the hangover, but it doesn't. Looks like the mask helps only when imbibing or being injected. Once the 'poison' is inside the body, the mask does nothing."

Bishop now really regretted starting drinking without her yesterday. Looked like he missed his chance.

But hey, she already pulled her mask off once. Twice, if he counted that dark night in Winterhold. Soon enough, he will see her in full. And then-

And then what, actually?

Until now, he thought of winning their little 'bet' as the ultimate goal, the final victory, after which she will somehow magically be 'his'. That wasn't how things worked, however. He couldn't go thinking like that, that this was some sort of game they played.

Games always had to end. Their relationship couldn't, not if Bishop wanted to keep his heart and his sanity.

So what was the end goal? Get her into bed? His heart clenched when he imagined her leaving afterwards.

He wanted more. Much, much more.

Marriage, then?

His head pounded with a brutal hangover and he winced. Perhaps this was not the right time to think about something life-changing like that. But he still felt the need to do... something. Anything. To bind them together, somehow.

He worried the little wolf-head ring on his hand. That gave him an idea.

"Hildur?"

He waited until her head lifted.

"There's... something I had for quite a long time." He wanted to insert some random line about women and trinkets but stopped himself at the last second. They were well past the point where such misdirections were necessary. Or welcome. This meant something to him, it was important, and he wanted her to know that. "I want you to have this."

He pulled the ring from his finger, gently took one of her hands into his own and placed it in her palm.

She stared down at the ring in her palm for a moment. Then she asked, shocked, "Your ring? I've never seen you take it off."

He smiled. "Well, now I have."

"...Thank you." She clutched the little ring in her hand, then slowly opened her palm, picked it up, and placed it on her finger.

Bishop felt a rush of satisfaction fill him at the sight. "I know it's not enchanted like your other rings, but..."

"I love it, Bishop, really." Her voice was strangely tight.

"...You alright, Ladyship?"

She only made a strangled little sound and then Bishop suddenly had a lap full of Dragonborn and lips full of Hildur.

At that moment, he forgot about his hangover or murky plans for the future or the whole world, and simply kissed her back. His hands rose to clutch her waist, but at that moment, she lifted herself a bit to better reach him. His hands ended up square on her ass. He squeezed, and Hildur gasped into his mouth.

With a smirk, he deepened the kiss. At the feeling of his tongue at her lips, she hesitated, then tentatively returned the caress with her own. Bishop pulled her closer and closer until she sat fully on his lap.

Right then, he was really glad to be still half-drunk and hungover, or he'd sport such a raging hard-on that it would have probably turned her off from him. As it was, he had trouble controlling himself even despite the pounding headache.

The kiss continued for a while, until they were both breathless and aching. When Hildur finally drew back, they stared at each other, neither saying a word.

That's when they heard steps coming up the stairs from outside and realized that Jordis, Hildur's housecarl, was probably about to return from her trip to the market.

Reluctantly, he let her go back to her seat. They both started rearranging their robes and armour.

"Well. The day's still young. Let's go out and see who else you can sell your wine to, Ladyship."

She chuckled, "Sure thing... _Florence_."

"No, it's Laur- Oh, _shit_!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Viarmo's Wine song: Topsy Turvy - on youtube ( watch?v=t4_jTwe6Ekc)

The marketplace was kind of... noisy. There was a decent-sized crowd surrounding an impromptu podium and some merchant's stall. As they approached, Bishop recognized the loud noise as _singing_.

_"~Once a while  
_ _We throw a party here in town  
_ _Once a while  
_ _We turn Solitude upside down  
_ _Every man's a king and beggars have renown  
_ _Once again it's Solitude's Day!~"_

Bishop's eyes narrowed. This smelled fishy. Or, perhaps, _wine-y_. He was wising up to his girlfriend's special brand of mischief. Maybe she should call her wine that - Mischief. "Ok, what's going on and why do I have the feeling you're the one behind this?"

Her shoulders shook with laughter, "That's because I am! I paid them to throw a small feast and to promote the wine."

He shook his head fondly, "Getting the Jarls to drink it wasn't enough?"

"Nope," she wiggled, content. "Not until every person in Solitude knows what it tastes like and adores it."

"How did you even convince them to do this?"

"Simplest thing in the world. I brought a piece of Aetherium here to the mortal plane. Or I might as well have." At his raised eyebrow, she nodded towards the happily singing Altmer at the helm of the crowd. "I paid in gold for them to throw a party and gave them complete creative freedom. And wine. By the end of my proposition, Viarmo was _hopping_ in place with the desire for me to just shut up so he can finally accept. I think they would have thrown the party even if I _didn't_ pay them. But I'm sure the gold helped."

"Of course, I should have guessed."

_"~Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for,  
_ _Here it is, you know exactly what's in store  
_ _Now's the time we sing until our throats get sore  
_ _Now's the time we drink the drink of Gods!~"_

The Altmer was in full swing, shouting at the passerby's and quickly growing crowd " _Come, taste the wine!_ "

Bishop stared. "Wait, they put your wine into a song in _less than a day_? I mean, I don't even like bards and singing but... That's pretty fast!"

"You're dead wrong if you think the bards aren't ready to burst into a song at the slightest bit of provocation."

"...That's fair."

_"~Put your drinking talents on display!  
_ _Be the King of Solitude's Day!~"_

Hildur added, self-satisfied, "By the way, they get a bottle of the wine for themselves for every ten bottles they sell. Also, want a drink?"

Bishop just face-palmed. "After yesterday? No, thank you, Ladyship. I still feel the rum at the back of my throat. But if you see any convenient pile of snow, let me know."

He could _feel_ her eye-roll. She looked around and spotted a bucket near the well, already full of water. "Would cold water suffice, my Princess?" Without waiting for his answer, she grabbed the bucket, brought it to her mouth and Shouted, " **FO-KRAH-DIIN!** "

Bishop watched with interest as the water, and surrounding air too by the looks of it, chilled to the point of freezing. There was a small layer of frost around the edges and the water itself looked... thick. Not quite ice, but no longer just water.

Hildur turned to hand him the bucket but before she could do that, a thin-faced Nord merchant reached over and deftly took it from her hands.

"Thank you, Dragonborn," she smirked, "This will work great to chill the wine!"

Hildur stood there and Bishop would bet his last pair of underpants that she was gaping, "But-, But my slush! _Evette_!"

The woman, most likely the famous Evette San, only laughed. "Come now, friend. It's hot outside today and our wine will sell better if it's chilled!"

The merchant threw a satisfied look into the barrel as if it held gold and not simply chilled water. "Trust me on that, I've been in this business for a long time. My Spiced Wine warms people up - no one has ever bought more than a glass on warm days and my best sales periods are in the winter. Yours serves well to cool people down, but for that, it needs to be chilled. Unless you want to invest in Frost Salts or Ice Wraith Teeth, the best we can do are stable Frost Runes or those Shouts of yours."

She pointed at a conveniently placed neat row of buckets and vats of water, "You can make yourself useful and chill these down for us as well, while you're at it. I'll go deal with the customers." And with a wink, she swaggered back to the stall where a line of customers was starting to form. All demanding to try some of the newest craze everyone was talking about.

"Bishop? I changed my mind. I don't like her anymore."

Bishop only laughed at her misery, then winced at his own misery. His head still hurt. "You heard the woman, Ladyship. Let's go and make you useful!"

* * *

Bishop picked a handful of Hildur's 'slush' from the latest chilled bucket he managed to wrangle from Evette before she could appropriate it for the wine and gratefully slapped it on his face. Aah, pure heaven. Just as satisfying as listening to the sheer _pouting_ his Ladyship somehow managed to push into her Shouts.

" **FO-KRAH-DIIN!** "

Even some of the nearby bystanders noticed and were subtly smirking and laughing into their wine cups. Chilled wine cups. And tankards, and pitchers and anything Evette could find on such short notice, once she ran out of buckets and vats of water. The woman commandeered her stall better than either Ulfric or Tullius did their army.

And it was for the wine, so his Ladyship couldn't even really complain.

And hey, the crowds were amused, which caused them to buy and drink even more of the wine, which made even _more_ work for his Ladyship, which caused her to pout even harder...

It was _beautiful_.

" **FO-KRAH-DIIN!** "

Unfortunately, that was when his little piece of heaven was interrupted by the last voice he ever would have expected to ruin this beautiful day.

"Forgive me for intruding, my lady, but I believe you are whom I am looking for. Are you the Dragonborn?"

She lifted her head and asked with just a touch of sarcasm. "What gave me away?" She straightened up from her tasks to give the man her full attention.

To both their surprise, the asshole Paladin only chuckled.

"My lady, my name is Casavir. I have been searching for the Dragonborn for some time now, in hopes of aiding you in your journey to keep the dragons at bay. I would like to offer my assistance."

This time Bishop wouldn't let his noble-hearted Ladyship deal with potential suitors, fans, and admirers herself, lest she decided to actually join forces with the asshole. Before she could answer, he dropped the slush back into the bucket and voiced his protest. "Ugh, that is just great. If it isn't everyone's favourite white knight. I was not expecting to run into you here, but the irony of it all definitely suits you."

He could see his Ladyship cock her head to the side and look back at him. Probably wondering why he didn't like the oh-so-noble Paladin. ' _Good,_ ' he thought. ' _Let her think and ask me before she does something crazy like ask the asshole to join us._ '

"I merely wish to assist her, much as I imagine you are going right now, Bishop."

' _Yeah, that's what I was worried about_ ,' he thought.

"She doesn't need you. Go help someone who wants your holy righteousness, it's not wanted here." He hoped, _prayed_ , it was not wanted.

The knight crossed his arms over his chest, defensive. "At least with me, her moral aptitude wouldn't plummet to the flaming depths of Oblivion which, I'm sure, with you along, it has been sorely tempted to do."

Hildur used that moment to jump in, "It wasn't, actually." When both men turned to look at her, she continued. "My moral compass is still firmly pointed towards Sovngarde, thank you very much. Besides," she shrugged her shoulders, "The dragons are pretty much pacified by now, the few surviving ones are following the Way of the Voice, and cause no trouble."

Bishop started to grin. Crisis averted. She will no doubt have some questions, but that could be easily dealt with later.

His girlfriend was saying her goodbyes, "I hope you enjoy your stay in Solitude."

"Actually, that brings up a question I wanted to ask you and away from prying ears."

"What's your question?"

"I know we've just met, my lady, but I wanted to request your presence to attend the Grand Crystal Ball with me at the Blue Palace, here in Solitude. I am new to these lands, and I am unfamiliar with the customs of Skyrim; I was hoping you could offer me some guidance."

Hildur jumped slightly, "Oh, _shit_ , that's _tonight_? I totally forgot!" She scratched the back of the mask's leather cowl. "In my defence, it's a bit hard to keep track of dates in the wilderness. I guess it's too late to RSVP now?"

The Paladin cleared his throat, looking a bit uncertain how to handle her un-ladylike language. "I've been asked to attend as a guest of honour, and I was hoping that you would join me." He threw a look at Bishop still at her side. "If you choose to decline, I understand."

She will decline, of course. Bishop knew that she would decline since she hated parties and large crowds of strangers and being too fancy; and this was the largest fanciest crowded party of them all.

She fidgeted, then replied. "Yes, I would love to, Paladin."

" _What?!_ "

Both of them ignored Bishop's outburst. Probably for different reasons, however.

"You delight me, my lady. I am overjoyed that you have accepted my request." Then he looked down at her robes - still filthy after dragging them through the swamps, since they didn't exactly have enough time and were‚tj in the mood yesterday to do a full cleanup. There might have been bits of Chaurus gunk here and there as well. The Paladin's eyes also briefly stopped at her metal mask. "Might I suggest getting a ball gown? There is an excellent shop here in Solitude, called 'The Jewel'. They have an amazing collection of gowns that might interest you. I have already informed the owner of the shop that I will compensate her for anything you wish to purchase."

"...You were so certain that I would accept?" she asked and Bishop was horrified to note that she was _amused_.

' _Damn it all to Oblivion!_ ' he silently seethed. ' _No, no, NO! Please, Divines, or Daedra or whoever, anyone but this guy!'_ He could accept being replaced, he told himself a long time ago that when the time came, he would graciously step aside and let her live her life with whoever she chose, but this was too cruel. Not _Casavir_ , of all people!

"I was _hopeful_ , my lady," he corrected her with his smarmy stupid grin. Bishop wanted to bash his face in. "When you are ready, please come speak to me and I will escort you to the Grand Crystal Ball."

She nodded in acceptance and turned to look around the marketplace, probably searching for the tailor shop and an excuse to run away from Evette.

Bishop took a step closer to her to join her side and leave when the hated voice of Casavir himself stopped him.

"Bishop, I wish to speak with you."

He clenched his teeth, barely holding back a snarl. "But _I_ do not wish to speak with _you_." He had bigger fish to fry. Like getting an answer out of his girlfriend on why she chose to attend the grand Who's Who Ball for all the nobility of Tamriel as the arm-candy of someone he clearly hated.

Before Casavir could get over the shock that someone would actually deny him anything he asked for, Bishop grabbed Hildur by the elbow and all but dragged her into the relative safety of the Winking Skeever.

They had some things to discuss.

* * *

Bishop lost.

Not that it was a fight. But still. Ladyship was going to have her 'magical night out' in the arms of his most hated enemy and there was nothing he could do about it.

Ok, maybe it was a fight. Which he lost.

Hildur parted ways with him in front of the shop with a kiss, asking him to help out the Bards and Evette pack and clean up after their impromptu party while she got ready. So here he was, carrying the wine the bards earned to their precious college for their private, smaller, College-only party.

Bishop grunted as he lifted yet another crate. Despite his Ladyship's initial protests, the wine disappeared surprisingly quickly. There were only about twenty bottles left after everything was accounted for - and Hildur planned to have them served to the nobility at the Grand Crystal Ball. They even managed to turn a nice profit from all the amused bystanders who couldn't resist but buy some at the marketplace party today.

Even the work couldn't distract him from his thoughts, however. His Ladyship, his Hildur, was out there in some fancy shop, prettifying herself for the sake of his greatest enemy.

Sure, she didn't exactly _know_ Bishop's history with Casavir, but still. Did he _have_ to explain? Couldn't she have just... refused to go?

Bishop couldn't help but feel hurt.

Did she care about the 'noble and virtuous Paladin' more than she cared about him?

No, that wasn't fair to either of them and he refused to think like that. Casavir might have been the first 'suitor' she didn't immediately reject outright, but that didn't mean anything, right? Ladyship probably only wanted to supervise the nobles tasting her wine and maybe sell it to them a little harder, and was using Casavir's extra invitation as an excuse to attend. Yeah, that was probably it, now that he thought about it.

Still...

The 'after-party' at the College was picking up, the bards getting cheerier by the minute. ' _Alright, that's it,_ ' he thought as he picked himself up and made for the door. He gave his Ladyship enough time alone.

Time to rejoin her at the 'Jewel'.

* * *

The shop looked like it deserved to have its own music. This much fanciness should be forbidden, he thought and fought the urge to squirm with unease.

Despite it being mere hours before the Grand Ball, the shop was surprisingly full and brimming with activity. Last-minute touch-ups, several 'flowers of the court' getting tight-laced into fluffy monstrosities of dresses that were currently in style, some nobles sitting around and not-so-patiently waiting for their beaus, a gorgeous-looking noble re-braiding her hair, several harried-looking assistants running to-and-fro... but where was his Ladyship?

He cast a quick appreciative glance at the noblewoman with the hair issues, then started seriously looking around for Hildur. The corridors of the shop were filled with mannequins, all of them presenting high-quality gowns in all the colours of the world. He couldn't wait to see his Ladyship try some of them on.

That's when his eyes fell on the small table. On the Archmage robes and mask of Hevnoorak that inconspicuously lay on it.

"Hey, Bishop," came the beautiful, amused voice of his Ladyship from behind him.

He turned.

"..."

The gorgeous vision before him smiled. It was the noblewoman he noticed before. Looked like she managed to finish her braid.

He appreciated her looks even before he knew who she was, but now? When he knew it was _his_ Hildur?

Damn. Just... damn.

"Cat got your tongue, ranger?" she asked him with a small, knowing smile.

"...You are so beautiful."

At his words, a small, pleased blush spilt on her lightly freckled cheeks. He couldn't stop staring at her.

_This_ was the woman he'd been kissing under that damned mask all this time? This was the woman he teased, dared, chased all over Skyrim?

If he had known, he would have... he would... ok, he would have done the same he did. Probably. Most likely. Still, it begged to question...

_What on Nirn was she doing with him of all people?!_

A woman with her beauty, power, money and prestige should grace the arm of an emperor or king, with a retinue of servants at her beck and call to fulfil her every wish before she could even ask. Not- Not get shit-faced with a random scruffy ranger on stolen Rum after dragging him through a deadly swamp!

Those people she was going to meet tonight - those were her people, not him. Princesses and admirals, ambassadors and generals. The creme de la creme. Who was he compared to that?

"Bishop?" A small worried frown marred her forehead. It was so much easier to read her without the mask on, he thought idly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I-" the words got stuck in his throat. Then he decided - to Oblivion with it all. She took her mask off? He could do the same. He would _not_ be outdone by a wench, not even in vulnerability. "You know what? No, I'm not."

She looked surprised, and not very pleasantly. He quickly continued before she could misunderstand, "Why do you even travel with me? Someone like you should be travelling with knights and servants, if she travelled at all. Even with someone like," he shuddered, "the Paladin, if that's what you wanted. So why me? Some random guy from a small village in the middle of nowhere?"

She lifted her chin. "I travel with you because I _want to_ travel with you, Bishop." Then she grinned. "No one tells me what to do."

Despite having never seen it before, the grin was so familiar that Bishop could clearly see his Ladyship behind the beauty. The arrogant tilt of her nose, so much like the noblewoman she was, and the mischievous smile that made her blue eyes twinkle... it ironically calmed him down.

He smiled. "Hah, you're right. I'd like to see them try."

He wanted so much to just... pull her close and kiss those full lips of hers. So much. But something still held him back. This version of her was... ok, he was man enough to admit he was intimidated.

Hildur lowered her head slightly and bit her lip, sensing his strange mood. "...I promised you something, didn't I?"

He tore his eyes away from the lip she held between her teeth. "Huh?"

Hildur snorted a bit, then her eyes turned gentle. "The mask is off, ranger-danger. Don't you want to claim your reward?"

He swallowed. "Don't tease me, woman. If I start now, I don't know if I can stop."

She, honest to Gods, _giggled_. Then, before he could guess what she intended, she jumped into his arms in her pretty dress and pecked him on the lips. He clutched her waist in response.

When she tried to withdraw, he wouldn't let her. He pulled her in closer and covered her lips with his own. One of his hands rose to tangle in her hair, messing up the braid she fussed so much with when he came in. Her hair was as soft as it looked, her lips just as sweet as he remembered.

There were some muffled twitters and smothered snorts around them. Bishop remembered where they were and, with tremendous effort, pulled himself away from his Ladyship.

There would be time for that later. Hopefully tonight. Right after the Ball.

Hildur cleared her throat and straightened her dress. "Right." She fiddled with her braid. "Would you take my robes and mask with you, please? I probably need to go back to Casimir."

Bishop snorted.

"What?"

"That's not his name, Ladyship," he crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling much, _much_ better.

"Oh." She bit her lip again. A nervous habit? "Ehm, what is his name, do you know?"

"Yeah, I know, Ladyship," he grinned back insolently. "I just don't feel like telling you. Try to guess - it's much more amusing!"

"Come on!" When she saw he wouldn't budge, she tried, "Caramir?"

He grinned, "No."

"Casalir?"

"Nope."

"Cashmere?"

Bishop only laughed.

His Ladyship pouted, then shrugged. "Alright then. I'll just call him 'My Knight'. No one will ask me for his name, then."

"Oh, please do, sweetheart. He's going to faint when he hears that." Stupid Paladin wows of chastity were going to brutally murder that guy and dance a happy little jig over his corpse. Bishop only wished he could see it when the asshole spontaneously combusts from the force of his own blush and pent up, suppressed desires.

Ladyship shrugged her shoulders. "I'm going to talk to the proprietor. I'm keeping this dress, it's nice."

"Yeah," he slowly checked her out, head to toe. "It is. But, wasn't the dress already paid for?"

"He said he will compensate her. Meaning he will only pay her _afterwards_. And, Oblivion no, I won't let some guy I only met today buy me dresses. I pay for my own shit!"

Bishop snorted. "That's my girl!"

He watched fondly as she talked to the owner, wildly gesticulating to help her get her point across. That was when he noticed the little dull gleam of a ring on her finger. _His_ ring.

His Ladyship was going to wear _his ring,_ his _claim_ on her, to the Grand Crystal Ball! Wear it in front of all the nobility of Nirn!

Shivers ran down his spine, settling themselves as white-hot desire in his belly. More powerful than anything he had ever felt before, it felt like he had his breath punched from his lungs.

Before he could get over his shock, his Ladyship finished her business and turned to go. He followed as if in a daze.

Right as she opened the doors out to the marketplace, she paused and turned to him with a mischievous smile and the delightful little wiggle he loved so much. "Oh, and Bishop? Your jaw totally hit the floor. That means I win!"

"Oh, you _so_ did _not_ , you wench!"

* * *

He watched as Casavir placed his smarmy hands on his Ladyship's waist to lead her to the assembled nobles in front of the Blue Palace and clenched his hands into a fist.

Right before they vanished in the crowd, he glanced back towards the pair one last time.

His eyes rested on the ring on her hand again. His ring.

That's when he knew. He couldn't, _wouldn't_ leave things to fate. He would fight for his love and get Hildur back into his arms. Tonight. In front of everyone. For the whole world to see.

Now he only needed to see if the 'Jewel' sold male clothes.


	12. Chapter 12

Bishop's new fancy clothes provided the perfect 'mask' under which he could hide among the crowd - none of the guests paid him any attention.

He checked the entrance gate to see where the guards patrolled so he could sneak by them. Yet all he could see - and hear - were the complaining nobles and the outside 'buffet'. He narrowed his eyes.

...Could it be possible? Did people just... invite themselves in? No guards, no patrols, no one watching that gate aside from the other guests waiting to be invited in, yet no one opened the gate in the last half-hour at least.

The only guests who got in were those who simply opened the gate themselves.

He scoffed, amused. Well, that was one way to 'weed out the unworthy'; they weeded themselves out by waiting for an invitation when they could just strut in and no one would have stopped them.

And people seriously paid for this?!

On the other hand, hey, easier for him to get in.

Bishop straightened, lifted his head the same way his Ladyship always have when she said she did what she wanted, smiled at the memory and strolled through the gate as if he owned the place.

The half-drunk announcer paused. "Err..."

Bishop glared at him for all he was worth and watched the fop gulp. Then the man shrugged his shoulders, looked away and pretended he hadn't seen him.

Worked for him.

Now, where could his Ladyship be?

He thought for a moment.

...By the wine, probably, he shrugged with a smile.

Several ladies stood by the finger-food, one of them shovelling itsy bitsy pieces into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten for a month. Which, considering the size of their waists, none of them probably have. Actually, weren't some of them the girls he saw at the Jewel today?

He silently stalked closer to hear what they had to say.

"Slow down, Margaret!" one of them hissed. "The Matriarch is watching us and she isn't too pleased, let me tell you."

"I don't care~," the second one intoned and picked up a tiny shrimp cake. "If the Dragonborn could eat some, so can I."

"Yes, but it's the _Dragonborn_!"

" _So_?" 'Margaret' shrugged one dainty shoulder. "Have you heard what she said? 'No lacing or glare is going to stop me from enjoying myself.' Well, I think she's right! Who cares about fashion, when I can't eat? Or _breathe_? And if _she_ could eat and still have that Paladin look at her like _that_ , then I'm going to do it too.."

Bishop scowled. Damned Casavir, ogling his Ladyship.

The second 'flower of the court' sighed, then gazed longingly at the table covered in food she didn't allow herself to touch.

'Margaret' gave her a conspiratory look and offered in a half-whisper, "I could help you loosen the lacing, darling Isobel. Then you could have a couple cakes and some of that wine before it's all gone."

Isobel bit her lip, gazed at the frilly cakes and delicate glasses of wine, then huffed, "Fine! Let's just... find a room."

Margaret giggled, grabbed her friend by the hand and dragged her into one of the side-rooms of the Blue Palace.

Bishop smiled despite himself. He smelled rebellion. So his Ladyship has been there and made a sensation out of herself whether she knew it or not. That was... just like her.

But it also meant she wasn't near the wine anymore. Hmm, where could she have gone? He decided to check near some of the more influential guests at the upper levels.

A dark-haired noblewoman in the same style of dress as his Ladyship was viciously fanning herself and glaring at anyone who dared to approach her. Bishop grinned - that looked like his type of person. He decided to move closer.

"I can't believe I let the consul talk me into this one!" The noblewoman fanned herself even more vigorously.

"Enjoying the evening, my Lady?"

The woman turned her piercing eyes to him. Then her hand slowed and a grin slowly formed on her lips. "Aren't you the scruffy ranger that escorted our dearest Dragonborn to the gates tonight? My, you clean up well."

Bishop coughed. That... was not the reaction he was expecting. "I... apologize. I didn't realize anyone was paying that much attention to my... previous attire."

The woman laughed openly. "I doubt many have. But you see, I spend all year long wearing trousers. And armour. I am more used to paying attention to everyone around me, not only the ones dressed like nobles. I also cannot help but notice you have not been announced, my friend."

One of his eyebrows lifted. "How very... keen of you to notice."

"I need to be," the noblewoman gave him a sharp grin. "I wouldn't last long as the Queen of War if I haven't. Oh, allow me to introduce myself, my dear - I am Queen Madrigal of Khefrem."

He felt cold sweat run down his neck. This was one of the most powerful women in Tamriel, the one who single-handedly kept the Dominion from her peninsula, said to have the blood of hundreds of elves on her hands.

He pulled himself together and responded simply with, "Bishop."

The Queen laughed again, delighted. "Oh, I can see why she likes you, man. She continues to prove she has excellent taste." She winked at him conspiratorily. "Can you believe some of the courtiers tried to start gossip about us fighting to the death on the dance floor to solve the 'dilemma' of wearing the same dress? Your delightfully charming Dragonborn simply glared at them, walked up to me and said: 'I like your dress. I see we both have excellent taste'. The courtiers had no idea how to react - it was incredibly amusing to watch them flounder. She brightened my whole evening up, let me tell you. Such a refreshing attitude! I simply have to convince her to come to visit us in Hammerfell, she would just _love_ it there."

Bishop chuckled. Hammerfell might not have been the first place he'd like to take his Ladyship to if he wanted to keep them both safe, but perhaps it might be better than Skyrim and its post-civil-war tension. Or pre-civil-war tension, depending on how you looked at it.

However, he had more pressing matters to resolve first.

"Do you know where she is right now?"

The Queen of War gave him an evil grin, "Why, on the dance floor with sir Casavir, of course!" She fanned herself. "Do you plan to go… stake your claim? If so, please let me know, I could use some more quality entertainment tonight."

Bishop excused himself and made his way to the dance floor as calmly as he could. His Ladyship was _dancing_ with Casavir? In front of everyone? That… no. He couldn't accept that. He would go and 'stake his claim' as Queen Madrigal said. No matter what anyone thought.

He walked down the stairs to the enormous dance floor and yes, there they were. Right in the middle. With half the other dancing pairs subtly watching their every move, listening to their every word.

It seemed he came just in time, as he overheard Casavir ask his Ladyship, "Are you certain you can trust him, my lady?"

Before he could jump in, he heard his Ladyship, his Hildur reply, "I trust Bishop with my life, Paladin."

Something in him unclenched at her words. Perhaps he was being a bit too harsh. Self-conscious. Damn, this wasn't like him at all.

Bishop ran a hand through his hair, uncertain for the first time that evening on how to proceed.

Casavir continued, "Yet I still find myself concerned about your current choice of companion. He is dangerous! I have met many men like him; they only care about their selfish gain. They leave only chaos and destruction in their wake. I am concerned that-"

"When was the last time you talked to him, Paladin? Actually talked to him?"

"I- well, that is...-" The famous Paladin stuttered. Then he straightened imperiously and continued, "There is no need to talk to him. I know his kind and-"

She interrupted him again, "And he is not 'his kind'. He is a person. With his own mind, personality and yes, _history_. When someone talks about people's 'kind', it usually ends up in the realm of 'Greyskins', 'Boots', 'Pig Children' and 'Barbarians'. Take care not to fall into the same trap, sir knight."

"Of course not! I have never judged by race! But you must understand, he... he was..."

"If you mean the fact that Bishop used to be a bandit, then I already know. It makes me respect him even more."

That took the wind out of Sir Righteous' sails.

Bishop's too, for the matter. He leaned back against the wall and decided to listen to what his Ladyship had to say.

"Pardon me, my lady, but - respect? You _respect him_ for being a _bandit_?"

She smiled, a bit sadly. "No, not for being a bandit. For having the strength of spirit to leave that kind of life behind.

"I may not know all the details, but I do believe the decision to become a bandit might not have been entirely his own. He used to play the hand his fate gave him. But, as an ancient wise being once told me: 'What is better? To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature with great effort?' Bishop used to be a bandit, yes. Until the moment when he realized it was wrong. And then he had both the courage and strength to change his entire life around. Abandon all he knew, all his friends and contacts, all his usual 'haunts', to become a ranger and live an honest life. What is not to be admired in that?"

Both Casavir and Bishop were stunned into silence. Bishop might have been stunned a bit more, however. He... never knew Hildur had such a high opinion of him.

Here he was dreading the eventual confrontation about his previous life as a bandit... but it seemed it was not necessary.

For possibly the first time in his life, someone made assumptions about him and his character and found Bishop worthy of respect.

He had no idea how to take that.

But it seemed Casavir did. Bishop saw him clutch Hildur's hand a little tighter. "That is kind of you and your compassion is commendable, but should we truly simply forgive his past actions? No matter what he is, or believes himself to be _now_ , there were a lot of people he hurt in the past."

Hildur only shook her head. "Your judgement is harsher than that of the Divines, Paladin. Shor's Hall of Heroes is filled with former sinners who turned their lives around. Even Martin Septim who saved us all from the Oblivion Crisis and Mehrunes Dagon's armies worshipped the Daedra in his youth. Should we judge him for who he used to be, or who he became in the end? Akatosh himself believed him to be worthy of becoming his avatar.

"Compassion for others might not be part of your wows, but perhaps it should be. You can never know where life will take you at the end of your days. Take care not to become worse than those you hunt.

"What kind of world do you want to live in? One where you hunt those who made mistakes in their past for the rest of their days? Or one where you let the past die and look at people as they are now?

"So yes. I believe Bishop deserves a second chance. He has earned one many times over, helping me help people without even any requests for compensation, simply to keep me company.

"He is the man I love. I wish to stay by his side and be a part of his future, not look to the past."

The song slowly came to an end.

Only now did Bishop realize that the crowd fell suspiciously silent as well. Most of them were staring at his Ladyship and the Paladin who, stunned, held her in his arms.

Then Casavir blinked and his face twisted in a strange sort of... pain? That was an expression Bishop never expected to see on the Paladin's face. "You have... given me a lot to think about, my lady. You are a good woman; a light in a dark world - one that I pray will never be extinguished. I... wish you... and Bishop... happiness."

The knight took Hildur's hand, placed a small kiss on its back, then bowed and walked away.

Hildur stood there, in the middle of the ballroom for a moment, watching the Paladin walk away with a curious expression on her face. Then she blinked, smiled to herself and turned towards the buffet tables around the dancing floor.

And spotted Bishop.

The surprise on her face would have been comical if Bishop hadn't been certain he sported an even more ludicrous expression himself. Were his eyes wet? They might have been.

He watched as Hildur relaxed at the sight of him, made her way towards him, resplendent in her beautiful gown, with a welcoming smile on her face.

This moment. No matter what else life will bring them, he would always remember this moment and know what love feels like.

All the pain of his life was worth it, if it brought him here. To her.

She paused before him. "Bishop," she greeted warmly, if a bit self-consciously.

"Hildur," he said back.

His hands reached out to her as if of their own accord. Found hers. Pulled her towards his arms.

"I love you too," he whispered into her hair and felt her relax in his hold. "Dance with me?"

"Of course," she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him with so much light in her eyes that she took his breath away once again.

The band resumed its music, the nobles' whispers picked up in volume. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bishop spied Queen Madrigal lean against the balustrade, grinning and steadfastly ignoring the Valenwood Ambassador at her side. She winked down at them and Bishop smiled in response. On the other side, two young ladies, each with a small cake in their hands, looked down at them, whispered and giggled. Several other ladies and gentlemen surreptitiously licked their fingers and moved towards the buffet tables.

Then Bishop stopped watching his surroundings for once and only had eyes for his love.

* * *

Their journey home was quiet. After the sheer volume and overcrowded heat of the ballroom, the quiet, cool night was a balm to both their souls.

They walked, hand in hand, past the palace and its still waiting guests, past the muted lights and music coming from the Bard College's party.

Hildur unlocked the door to her house, then she and Bishop walked inside the darkened entrance that only had the hearth's fire to cast a soft glow on their figures.

The night was quiet. Gentle, balmy breeze flew in through the cracks in the windows.

Hildur stepped into his arms, turned her beautiful eyes towards him, then leaned in and placed her lips against his. Bishop closed his eyes, allowing himself, both of them, to enjoy the kiss.

"I want you," she whispered against his lips and Bishop felt a shudder run down his whole body, settling itself as warmth in his belly.

But he had to be certain. "We don't have to, Hildur. If you still wish to wait... just because we confessed, it doesn't mean..."

"I know." She cuddled even closer to his warmth. "I want to. I have for a while now. Take me to bed, Bishop."

They left a path of discarded clothes in their wake. Bishop's doublet was the first to go, and soon enough he was helping Hildur untie her dress lacing. With each layer that fell away, he felt more and more confident, and more and more in awe. As if he had won a hunt, yet instead of blood and death, he found life and warmth.

When he finally had his Hildur under him, staring up at him with trust and love in her eyes, he felt like he was losing himself. All his past, all his mistakes ceased to matter, dandelions in the wind.

As he entered her body for the first time, he simply allowed himself to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Too much? Just right? ...Too little? Please let me know. This is the first time I'm writing a 'steamy' scene form the 'feelings' point of view. (A little ironic that it's Bishop of all people but hey, we all know he has the passion covered. I wanted to see if he had the love, too. Turnes out he does. A lot of it :) )
> 
> On a different note, we have one more chapter and epilogue to go :) It might take me a little longer, but shouldn't be more than a week or two.


	13. Chapter 13

Morning sunlight streamed gently through the high windows, resting on the beautiful face of his lover. Bishop lay there, watched her sleeping face and wondered how he got so lucky. In his arms lay one of the most powerful women in the world, naked as the day she was born.

He watched with interest as her nose scrunched up, a clear sign she was about to wake. One of his hands caressed her shoulder, waiting for her eyes to open.

His Ladyship blinked the sleep from her eyes, her fingers twitched on his bare chest, then she turned her face up to look at him and-

" _What the hell, Bishop?!_ "

He howled with laughter at her disgruntled face, rubbed his sore side where she elbowed him and righted the mask of Hevnoraak on his face. Aaah, sweet revenge!

"What's wrong, Ladyship? I thought you liked your mask?" He asked innocently.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," she grumbled but he saw the smile she couldn't hide. "I don't like to see it first thing in the morning. ...You can be so mean sometimes."

"Me? _Never_!" He laughed as he pulled it off and sat up on the bed. "As if I'd ever tease you about the fact that you made me wake up to Hevnoraak's face every morning for over a month."

She lost the fight with her smile and laughed too. "Point taken, ranger-danger. Guess I'll just have to wear the Amulet of Disease Immunity I brought from Taarie yesterday..."

He paused and looked back towards his Ladyship, sprawled on her, _their_ , bed with a mischievous smile on her face. "You-"

"Don't plan to put it on again, now when I have a beautiful and kind lover who wants to kiss me. Buuuut if he insists on wearing a mask himself..."

He threw the mask on the bedside table and jumped back into the bed and open arms of his beloved.

* * *

**Two months later, Windhelm**

"Well, I can safely report that the mission was a success, Dragonborn," Quintus rubbed his hands together with a grin. "I've been getting orders from all over Skyrim, from Windhelm all the way to Solitude. We even had a couple from Riften! Despite Maven Blackbriar's stranglehold, the Bee and the Barb are all too happy to offer it as well."

Hildur smiled and leaned against the counter. "I'm glad to hear that. Oh, and if Maven ever gives you trouble, let me know. I'd very much like to deal with her."

"Err, haha, as you say, Dragonborn," Quintus nodded, but both he and Bishop knew his Ladyship's 'dealing' with Maven would probably be painful. Possibly permanent.

Bishop for one was looking forward to it.

"Oh, and I have a message from you! Queen Madrigal sends her regards, an order for over a hundred bottles and a letter that asked me to tell you that 'both your tastes remain excellent'. I am not quite sure what it means, but we're going to need more Jazbay."

"I can do that!" Hildur wiggled. "I needed some more Hagraven feathers anyway and there's always a lot of purple mountain flowers around Eldergleam Sanctuary..."

Bishop shook his head, fondly. "Sure, I can help you shoot some Hags, Ladyship. But don't ask me to carry your flowers, I don't want to smell like a girl."

"You already smell like me, Bish, and I'm a girl. But don't worry, we can go kill some bears afterwards. Maybe a nice little bear-smelling cloak would assure you of your manliness?"

"Oh, you wench! As if I needed any assurances. Just you wait, the first thing I'm going to do with that cloak will be to lay you down on it and-"

Quintus coughed into his hand and gave them a _look_.

"Sorry," she grinned, not sounding sorry at all.

"It's quite alright, Dragonborn. But if I may interest you in these calculations, you will see that the prognosis is quite-"

Bishop rolled his eyes and stopped paying attention. He will let his Ladyship deal with all that boring stuff, while he looked around the alchemy shop for something more interesting to do.

There was a crate of used potion vials in the corner. From the look and smell of them, it was the glasswork for Hildur's cold-resistance tonics.

He sighed, set a nearby cauldron full of water on the fire and started dipping the vials in to clean them.

The conversation behind him paused and he turned to look at them. "What?"

Both the shopkeep and his Ladyship were knowingly smiling at him.

He just rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like that! You were going to do it anyway. I'm just... saving us some time."

She chuckled. "If you say so, Bishop, if you say so."

"Ugh." Let them think what they wanted. He was just going to... continue cleaning. Yeah.

* * *

As soon as they were out of the surprisingly sweltering shop, they turned to each other. "Fish chowder?" they asked as one and laughed.

"On to the Docks, then!" Bishop put his hand on her waist and led her to the gate leading to their Argonian friends.

The Docks were surprisingly quiet for this time of the day. Bishop had the feeling there were even more ships than usual. And... where were all the Argonians? Or the guards?

"You there! You're the one they call Dragonborn?"

Uh-oh. Bishop smelled trouble. Masked strangers were never good news, his Ladyship excepted of course, and these looked especially murderous.

He readied his bow as surreptitiously as he could.

Hildur turned, for once not smiling, though she tried to play it off. She sighed, "This is what I get for not wearing my mask. Yes, I am the Dragonborn."

"Your lies fall on deaf ears, Deceiver. The True Dragonborn comes... you are but his shadow. When Lord Miraak appears, all shall bear witness! None shall stand to oppose him!" The masked strangers readied fire spells. "Time to die!"

Bishop shot the one further back in the eye then jumped away from Hildur and covered his ears, now very much used to her fighting style. Hildur predictably shouted, " **IIZ-SLEN-NUS!** "

He shook the remnants of the shout from his ears, and turned to see the female masked whoever, cultist by her speech, frozen in a block of ice. Huh, that was a new one.

"No Dragonfire, Ladyship?"

She shook her head, suspiciously serious. "No, I wanted to check their pockets, see who sent them."

"Best get to it quickly then, before the guards come. There's no way they missed the Shouting." He approached the frozen bandit and kicked her as hard as he could in the chest. The body shattered, together with the ice. "I'll check the other one."

She only nodded.

"Hildur?"

"Yes?"

He looked at her, uncertain. She looked almost... sombre. "Is something wrong?"

She sighed and stared down at the shattered corpse at her feet. "This... I don't know. This smells... big." She started digging through the remains, not noticing Bishop's frown.

When she stood up, one of her hands held a bloodied note. Their eyes met, then Bishop nodded to it, silently asking her to read it.

She sighed and started reading.

" _Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Hildur before she reaches Solstheim._

_"Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased_.

"Not signed, of course."

There was a moment of silence.

Several guards rushed in to see what the commotion was about. When they saw the Dragonborn and her lover standing over mutilated corpses of strangely-dressed foreigners, they wisely kept their distance and all but joined the slowly gathering crowd of onlookers.

Bishop tried to play it cool. "Heh. They didn't even ask for your head on a pike. Amateurs. You just can't get quality cultists these days."

His ladyship's lips twitched, but she continued to stare at the note in her hands, thinking hard.

Bishop couldn't help the sudden shudder of apprehension that ran down his spine. "Don't tell me you actually want to go after this murderous pen-pal of yours..."

She lifted her eyes, looking lost for the first time since he'd known her. "I... I think it's time for us to part ways."

"... _What?!_ " Bishop exclaimed, then stepped up to her to grab her around her shoulders. "You can't be serious! As if I'd leave you to deal with this alone! No way! Out of the question!"

"I don't want to risk you!"

"And _I_ don't want to risk _you_!" He wanted to shake her. "You promised me, Hildur! No more suicide missions!"

"This... This might not be..."

"Don't play me a fool, Ladyship! You damned well know this will be too dangerous, that's why you want me to leave you! To face it alone!" He couldn't help it and pulled her into his arms, hoping against hope he'd be able to shield her from the dangers ahead. "I refuse! I won't let them have you."

"Bishop..."

He squeezed her harder. His throat felt clogged. " _Please_ , Hildur. I'm begging you. Don't go. Don't do this to yourself. To us. This is not worth your _soul_."

Her breath hitched. "What- what do you mean?"

"Just look at them. The way they're dressed, the note they carried, the dramatic speeches about True and False Dragonborns... Ladyship, they are obviously cultists. And who do cultists usually follow? That's right - the Daedra."

She stiffened in his arms, hiding her face in his chest.

He caressed her back, soothing. Pleading. "Just this once... let it go just this once, my love. Let's just leave and let it solve itself. Don't answer some idiotic Daedra worshipper's summons and leave them to it until they get themselves killed by their own Gods."

Hildur snorted. "You make it sound so easy."

He smiled, feeling that she was seriously considering it. That's his girl! She might just figure out when to save her own skin yet. He hoped. "Why shouldn't it be easy? Leave them to it and if they really want to challenge you, let them come to _you_ , not the other way around. That way you can set the trap instead of walking into one of their own making."

She laughed and relaxed, burying herself deeper into his embrace.

They stayed like that for a while. The crowd slowly dispersed when there were no further attacks.

Bishop slowly breather out. "Come away with me, Hildur. Let's live together, as we've been doing. Let's marry and settle down together, if that is what you wish to do. Hell, sweetheart, I'd even open a shop and become a merchant for you. Anything. Just please, don't go."

She snorted. "Bishop the Merchant. Might have to marry you, just to see that."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." He rolled his eyes. "But better not - I'd probably shoot them if they tried to haggle with me."

She was openly laughing at him how. "At least you'd keep your skills sharp. We'll need someone to teach our child how to shoot a bow, after all."

"Yeah." He smiled and hugged her tight. "You'll stay then?"

"I'll stay."

And then he registered what she had just said. "Wait, what do you mean, 'our child'?"

Hildur pulled back, grinned, and _wiggled_. "Surprise! I'm pregnant."

"You're _what_?!"

THE END

* * *

*Bishop's cries echoing in the distance, "Ladyship, whyyy? Why do you always do this to me? You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days!"

"Oh, quiet, you! You know you enjoy it!"

Shahvee calmly stirred her cauldron full of Fish Chowder and shook her head. ' _Humans_!'

At the pier, unnoticed by all, the wind picked up a blood-stained note and carried it into the cold waters, where it sank to the bottom of the river, forgotten.

THE END (For real, this time)

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Song: Disney's Gaston. I think we all know the melody :D but just in case: watch?v=jGW0FOifmWc

**8 years later, The Rift**

His Ladyship was dressed once again in her old Archmage robes, Dragonbone Katanas at her side. The robes might fit her more snuggly now, but she still cut an imposing figure, not to be taken lightly.

Their enemies, however, looked even scarier.

Three huge, terrifying serpentine dragons; and sitting on the back of one, a man, oddly blurry around the edges, dressed in armoured robes and a Dragon Priest Mask that seemed to be melting off into unnatural metal tentacles.

" **And so we meet at last!** " boomed the voice of the ungodly monstrosity that might have once been a man. " **The one who has slain Alduin... Well done. I could have slain him myself, but I chose a different path.** "

The serpentine dragon under him obediently bowed its head, allowing the traitor-priest to dismount.

Bishop felt a shudder of revulsion pass through him. He was not a dragon fan but to see them treated like this... It was wrong. Just plain wrong.

"Could you have? Vahlok and an army of angry dragons say otherwise. Did they not chase you into Apocrypha with your tail between your legs?"

Bishop grinned despite himself. Maybe not the most diplomatic opening line, but he loved his Ladyship's style.

" **How dare you! I am Miraak, the First Dragonborn, I will not be** _ **mocked**_ **by...** "

His Ladyship got an evil smirk on her lips, then opened her mouth and before Miraak could continue his angry rant, started _singing._ Bishop sighed fondly and readied his bow.

"~ _Noooo oooone runs like Miraak,  
_ _Hides from world like Miraak,  
_ _No one fails to rebel then cries 'Foul!' like Miraak!  
_ _For there's none on Nirn half as dragon-ly,  
_ _Perfect; a failed demi-god!_ ~"

The would-be god let out a scream of wordless rage and ran at Hildur without any thought of strategy, combat or even shouting.

_Twang!_

Miraak took one more step, his hand rose half-way towards his face where an arrow protruded from one of his mask's eye-holes. Then the priest collapsed, dead. Bishop lowered his bow, arrow still at the ready.

"Yes!" shouted a surprisingly young voice from the nearby bushes.

"Julian! What did I tell you about sneaking?"

The bushes rustled. "To not get found?"

"And what did you just do?"

"Got found?"

"Exactly!" She put her hands on her hips, while Bishop put the arrow away and palmed his face. "You're so grounded, young man!"

"Aww, but mooom!"

"No! Grounded until you learn to stay silent when you're sneaking!"

The bushes rustled, then Bishop, Hildur, the dragons and a group of curious onlookers and guards could see a small form run towards the woods, flanked by two wolves.

Hildur turned to check the fallen Dragonborn. "Aah, Nords. Atmorans too, I guess. Always works like a charm..."

The dragons shifted. Not much, by their standards, but considering their size, it was immediately obvious and caught their attention.

Hildur and Bishop watched them warily. Yet when neither side attacked, Hildur relaxed and sheathed her Katanas. " **Drem Yol Lok, Dovah!** "

The dragons exchanged glances, then the one who carried Miraak on his back answered for them, " **Saraan uth, Dovahkiin. I am Sahrotaar. I give you my name in honour of you and your kin freeing us from Miraak's control -** "

"Yes, thank you. I am not one for ruling anyone, though, thank you for the offer. Let's skip the pleasantries - do I have to kill you all, or will you go to grandpa Paarthurnax to learn the Way of the Voice?"

The dragons exchanged subtle glances with eyes the size of a dog. Then they all nodded and turned back to Hildur. " **We'll go to Paarthurnax, Dovahkiin-Thuri. ...We're only glad that we didn't end up as Miraak's health potions. Thank you for freeing us from his control.** "

With that, the three great dragons rose into the skies as one, and flew away.

"Well, that went better than expected."

Bishop laughed and pulled his wife to his side by her waist. "What did I tell you? It's better to lay traps than walk into them."

"I stand corrected, my love. Now," she grinned at him mischievously, "how do you feel about going on a lovely vacation to Solstheim? I hear the weather's _beautiful_ this time of the year."

Bishop groaned, shook his head and went to pack a tent that would allow them to have some 'private time' and not have them swim in ash.

The things he did for love...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That's it, folks! I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> Explanation about the, perhaps unexpected, last chapter and epilogue:
> 
> I always planned to have Bishop convince the Dragonborn to abandon the quest. The DLC is amazing and I love it but it doesn't fit Hildur's profile. Also, I wanted the relationship between DB and Bishop to be on a more equal footing.
> 
> I believe that relationships should be/are a 'give and take'. But in the game, the 'give and take' is... very unhealthy. Basically, the Dragonborn gives Bishop sex and Bishop gives the Dragonborn a support fighter. That's kinda cold, don't you think? I wanted to change that, and find something 'worthy' that the ranger could give to his demi-god girlfriend and vice-versa.
> 
> The Dragonborn was easy - Hildur can give him better, healthier contacts with the outside world, both a lover and a friend. To make him want to be a better man.
> 
> But what can Bishop give her?
> 
> The best thing that Bishop could give the Dragonborn is a little bit of healthy selfishness. The ability to put yourself and your interests first, because no matter how noble one's intentions are, there are times when following the 'hero's path' only leads to your suffering.
> 
> If Hildur went ahead with it and finished the 'canon' Dragonborn DLC questline, she'd feel horribly guilty about herself, her faith, her life, the shaman's death,... She's not someone who could ever accept the fact that she's now a 'Daedric follower', because she carries Black Books and has been to Apocrypha. It would only hurt her in the end.
> 
> Bishop understood that, and gave her reason and ability to put herself first and say no.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments! :) I love to hear from you.


End file.
